Fighting Chance
by LyricalKris
Summary: Edward and Bella are strangers with one terrible thing in common. Both picking through the ashes in the aftermath of disease. Both in need of a shred of hope, a fighting chance.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N and Disclaimer: I am usually not one for direct trigger warnings. However, for this particular fic, there are two I'll give up front. You're always free to PM me at any time if you have questions. I promise I won't hesitate to spoil you if you ask.**

 **One character in this fic is suicidal. Another has had an abortion for medical reasons. If you need additional information, don't hesitate to ask. If either of these things offends you, I have almost a hundred other fics. I'm sure we can find something you'd prefer.**

 **Other disclaimer: I am not a doctor. I'm going to do the best I can to be vague, because I know a heartbreaking number of you have personal experience with disease.**

 **Much love, and take care of yourself.**

* * *

 _ **"How beautiful the body is**_

 _ **how perfect its pads**_

 _ **with what precision it moves**_

 _ **how obedient, proud and strong**_

 _ **How terrible when torn**_

 _ **The little flame of life sinks lower and lower, and with a flicker, goes out**_

 _ **It goes out like a candle goes out**_

 _ **Quietly and gently**_

 _ **It makes its protest at extinction, then submits**_

 _ **It has its day, then is silent"**_

 _ **\- Martin Avery**_

Edward was almost done.

For the millionth time, he considered the concept, turning it over in his mind. Done. Finished. Complete. He set down his pen and nodded to himself, a curious lack of emotion settling like a stone at the center of his chest.

Yes. It felt, if not right, then at least inevitable.

He searched himself, wondering if he should be feeling something, but he found only calm. His hands didn't shake as he put the last letter in its envelope and set it down with the others. There were four, each with a single name written on them in his precise script: Dad. Mom. Alice. Emmett.

They'd be relieved in the end. There would be grief, of course. That couldn't be helped, but they grieved for him now. They worried. There would be no need to worry about him after tonight. He was lifting that burden from them. He'd explained as best he could, and that task was done. He breathed in and out. In and out.

He had a checklist. These four envelopes in their neat line at the direct center of his coffee table was the first item. Straightening up, he mentally added the checkmark. He liked checkmarks. They gave him some measure of satisfaction. He waited for it, but tonight, it didn't come.

Nodding to himself, he took one last look around the house. Everything was picked up and put away. Dusted. Vacuumed. Arranged. Satisfied, he walked out his front door and closed it behind him with a final, quiet snick.

 _ **~0~**_

After he'd put all his affairs in order—bills paid and beneficiaries updated—Edward only had three items left for his final checklist. The second was here: Fairhaven Cemetery. Soon to be his permanent home, he mused. Not that he cared at all about that. This place was just storage. A final resting place.

He didn't want to rest. He wanted oblivion. He wanted darkness. Uninterrupted sleep.

Every Saturday for the last two years he'd come to this place. It was routine, and it was on his list. He parked first as he always did in front of the cemetery's florist shop. He paused a beat, amused at the futility as always.

Charlotte hadn't even liked flowers that much. She'd always said if he was going to get her a bouquet, could he make it one of those edible numbers? Pineapples cut into daisies and strawberries masquerading as roses. But that wasn't what you gave a dead person.

Just like most Saturdays, there was only one person in the shop behind the counter. The same person for nearly two years. Edward offered her a smile of greeting.

Then, he stopped short.

The woman looked haggard. She'd been slumped over, resting her head on the counter. She'd straightened up when he came in, but her answering smile of welcome seemed to cost her. Before he could think twice about it, Edward took a step in her direction. "Are you okay?" he asked, stopping himself when her eyes sharpened.

They never really talked. She'd started working here maybe four or five months after he'd begun coming in, and they'd seen each other once a week as long as she was working. Despite that, they'd never exchanged much more than the typical customer-employee pleasantries. Still, Edward knew more about this woman than she'd probably want him to. If there was one thing he recognized too well, it was what deathly illness looked like.

The first time he'd seen her, Edward would have said she was knocking on death's door. She was skin and bones save for her puffy face. Her eyes were sunken, skin ashen, her head covered by a scarf and nothing else. He remembered thinking a cemetery's florist shop was either the best or strangest place to find a walking corpse.

She'd survived whatever she was going through. Over the months, she'd filled out, got some color back in her cheeks and grown a crop of pretty brown hair. He'd been happy for her.

And bitter. He couldn't deny he was a little bitter.

Now, today, she looked like death warmed over. She was bone-pale with dark circles under her eyes. Her breaths seemed labored, and she swayed a bit on her feet when she stood up straighter and smiled. "Probably didn't get enough sleep last night, and I think I'm coming down with a cold. You know how it goes."

He frowned but nodded. Assuming he was right about her, even if she'd beat an obvious bout with cancer, her immune system had to be still decimated. It wasn't his place to mention it, though, and she'd know that better than he would.

"It's that time of year," he said instead and turned to the coolers of pre-arranged flowers.

There was something soothing in this ritual of choosing the right bouquet. There was no earthly reason why it should be so important. Not only did Charlotte not like flowers but, being dead, she wasn't going to see them. Yet every Saturday, Edward occupied a solid half hour looking at each flower on each bouquet. He counted the varieties of flowers, the colors, the spread. He weighed the pros and cons, optimizing for max fullness.

About halfway through his selection process, a crash had him whirling around, away from his task. He scanned the area and found the woman had disappeared. One moment she'd been behind the counter, the next she'd vanished. Edward darted forward, around the other side and found her sprawled on the floor, eyes closed.

"Hey, okay. Don't worry." Edward dropped to his knees beside her, relieved to hear raspy breaths right off. He considered his options quickly as he checked her head and neck for injuries. "Coming down with a little more than a cold, I see. It's never just a cold, is it?"

For one split second, he was annoyed. This wasn't on his list. In fact, this would stop him from completing the list.

Then, the woman wheezed, and Edward remembered his humanity. "Okay, um...ma'am? I guess it's a little pathetic that I don't know your name. My name's Edward. I'm going to help you. I'm sorry for not asking first, but I think you and I should take a trip to the hospital together."

As he spoke, his tone even and, hopefully, soothing, he gathered her into his arms. She was surprisingly warm for someone so pale. She whimpered but didn't wake as he walked with her out to the car. After getting her settled in the backseat, he ran into the main office to let the person at the front desk know what was going on.

The woman was semi-conscious by the time they pulled into the ambulance bay in front of the hospital some minutes later. "Mac," she whispered, her head lolling and her eyes fluttering, struggling to open. "Mac?"

"I'm afraid not. Not Mac," Edward said as he reached into the car to pull her out. "But I'll find him for you, okay? You just concentrate on opening your eyes, and I'll find him."

Nurses descended on him then, shooting the questions he supposed were reasonable when a man wandered into an emergency room with a mostly unconscious woman in his arms. He got her as far as the bay they indicated and laid her down as directed before the questions got around to who the hell he was.

Near total strangers weren't allowed behind the curtain. They also weren't much help to the doctors and nurses who needed to know details about her medical history. Edward was free to leave; his civic duty done.

Instead, he settled into the waiting room. He couldn't leave the woman with no one. He'd brought her purse, and he thought it would be okay if he looked through it, if only to find her identity, her insurance card, and this Mac person she'd asked for.

His checklist could wait.

* * *

 **A/N: This fic is lovingly dedicated to Packy whose thirst for angst only feeds my addiction.**

 **This is going to be a hard ride, my doves. I'll hold your hand if you hold mine. What are your thoughts?**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: All buckled in? Let's go.**

* * *

Her chest ached.

For terrifying moments, as consciousness drifted back to her, Bella couldn't find her place in time. She had vague memories. Voices. Pain. Doctors asking questions. And she couldn't breathe.

Was it happening all over again? Terror choked her at the thought.

 _Please, no._

"Hey there."

Disembodied voice. That happened a lot. There were so many specialists that Bella stopped looking at them after a while. They were just voices—some compassionate, some impatient, some deadpan.

This one was quiet and smooth. Gentle.

"Are you really awake this time?"

That was highly debatable. But, he also didn't quite have the tone of a doctor. A nurse maybe? Some nurses were friendly, their presence soothing. Bella opened her eyes.

She flinched away from him, eyelashes fluttering as she again tried to find herself in place and time. This image didn't make any sense. Was she hallucinating now? What fresh hell was this? There was no way this was really happening.

"'Mm I dead?" Her voice came out as a rasp. She hoped she wasn't dead. If the afterlife was this uncomfortable, she was going to be pissed. Breathing wasn't fun, but it still seemed to be a necessity. The cannula made her nose itch.

Maybe Liam had been right after all, and she was in hell.

"No." The man looked perplexed. "You're in a hospital."

"No shit, Sherlock." Bella closed her eyes again. Even that tiny outburst had cost her what little energy she had. "Who're you?" she asked. It was simpler than the questions in her head.

She knew he was the guy who showed up every Saturday like clockwork. He was hard not to remember, and not only because he spent a half hour staring at the flowers with an expression on his face like he was determined to find the math equation that explained the universe. He always bought two bouquets, and in nearly two years, Bella had never gotten the courage to ask him who they were for.

The man kept her up at night, not just because he was handsome—and he was that, all perfectly chiseled angles, sad green eyes, and tousled bronze hair—but because she was desperate with curiosity. What was his story? Why did he brood the way he did? What was he thinking that he perpetually had that pinched look about his face?

And now, how had he ended up in her hospital room?

She peeked. Sure enough, he was still there.

"I was with you when you fell at the florist's. I don't know if you remember that part." He sat forward in his chair but didn't make an attempt to touch her. "I brought you here." He rubbed the back of his neck, glancing at her. "The nurses... They called your mother, and she said you had no one here. It didn't seem right to leave. So, I got her permission to stay." He cocked his head, looking at her. "I'll go, though, if I'm making you uncomfortable."

She shook her head infinitesimally. How could she be so exhausted when she'd just woken up from unconsciousness? "Why would a stranger watching me sleep make me uncomfortable?"

"I wasn't—"

"'Mm kidding. Mostly." She tried to take a deep breath. It didn't work well. "It's a hospital. Not a lot of dignity here."

"I wasn't watching you sleep. For the record. One of the nurses brought me a book, and I was reading, mostly. I was just here."

"For me," she said, turning that idea over in her head.

"Yes."

"You don't have anywhere else you need to be?"

There was a pause, and when she opened her eyes, she saw a strange look on his face. "Not today," he said.

Now, it was her turn to pause. It took some time, in her cloudy brain, to put together all the pieces. She wasn't sure they made sense for a lot of reasons not the least of which was this part? The hospital part? The being ill part? She'd almost always been alone for this.

"Thank you," she said finally. "For being here."

"You're welcome."

There was so little inflection in his tone. This whole thing should have been awkward, but maybe she was too tired to feel that kind of anxiety. "What's your name?"

"Edward."

He looked like an Edward. Regal. Edward was the perfect name for someone who brooded the way he did. "I'm Bella," she said around a wheeze.

"Nice to meet you. Circumstances could be better."

"We usually interact in a cemetery, you know." She punctuated that sentence with a cough and a groan. Her chest _hurt_ _._

"You should rest. Save your strength."

She scoffed. "What's wrong with me? Do you know?"

"They didn't tell me much. Your immune system needs help fighting a nasty cold. The doctor said she thought you probably self medicated with too much cold medicine. Something about depressed breathing levels. They're keeping you at least overnight."

"At least I don't have to make the bed in the morning." Her words were slurred and her eyelids drooping again.

"I should confess. I went through your phone. You asked for Mac. I tried to find him, but I couldn't. If you tell me his number, I'll be glad to call for you."

Bella's eyes flew open and she turned her head to look at him. "Mac?" Her heart twisted, and her chest ached for much different reasons. "Mac isn't a man. She's my baby. My daughter. McKenna."

Mac was the reason Bella had taken so much cough medicine and stimulants, trying to get on her feet for the work day. "I had to work," she murmured, tears stinging her eyes. "I had to. I have to get to her."

Edward rested his hands on the edge of her bed, his face etched in concern. "Is she somewhere else? Like daycare? Does she need to be picked up?"

"He has her." Bella's eyelids were so heavy. "He took her."

She remembered now. She remembered swaying in her seat at work; remembered the whoosh of air past her ears. She remembered her last thought before she hit the ground: she was going to miss her daily call with Mac. It was all she had; the only way she'd interacted with her daughter in over a year.

Bella tried to shake off the lethargy, but it took her anyway.

 _ **~0~**_

When Bella opened her eyes again, the room was bathed in quasi darkness, the hospital in quasi silence. She took a few experimental breaths. Not as painful as before. Progress.

She turned her head. The seat at her bedside was empty. For a long time, she stared at it, a sense of desolation spreading through her, hollow and aching in at its core, anger around the edges. An old, old refrain whispered with every beat of her heart.

To have and to hold in sickness and health. That had been the vow she took. That had been the vow that should have guaranteed that seat wouldn't be empty. She imagined a man, a partner, curled up there, asleep, his phantom hand in hers.

Bella wouldn't let her imagination put Liam there. No. At the thought of him, flame sparked in her gut. She would swear she could breathe fire when she thought of that man.

"Vitals," a soft voice said.

Bella nodded, keeping her eyes on the empty chair as the nurse did what she had to do.

"They said your husband is a hottie," the nurse said conversationally.

Bella started. "What?"

"Oops. You want to keep still so I can get a good blood pressure reading."

"What do you know about my husband?" Bella asked, hardly able to keep the hiss out of her raspy voice.

The nurse faltered, glancing at her. "I didn't mean anything by it, dear. The outgoing nurse said he was sweet and good looking, that's all."

"Oh." Bella's hackles lowered. "That guy."

"Not the husband, then?"

Looking up at the ceiling, Bella scoffed. "My first round of chemo? I went home, and he was right there waiting for me. With divorce papers."

That brought the nurse to a halt. "Are you kidding?"

"I'm not that creative."

"Scumbag."

"Yeah." Bella's vision blurred, but she set her jaw, determined not to cry. He'd had his reasons, but the nurse didn't need to know that.

 _ **~0~**_

The strange man from the shop came back in the late morning. Bella supposed it should have bothered her. She understood his argument. He didn't think it was right that she should be alone. It was a nice sentiment in theory, but the reality involved a lot of her dozing off, leaving her vulnerable and defenseless in a room with a man she didn't know.

Maybe she was just too tired for self-preservation, but Edward's presence didn't bother her. The aura around him was strange but not dangerous.

The third time Bella opened her eyes, seeing him in his chair, watching the television with a blank-eyed stare, she figured out why she wasn't scared of him. He was diminished somehow, as though he didn't exist in full color. There was something in his eyes and the set of his shoulders that made him smaller than he was. His presence, by her side, was quiet—calming, if not soothing.

She watched him for a good twenty minutes—who was the creeper now—before he even noticed. He offered a small smile. "You're awake again."

"Yeah. Lucky me."

His answer smile was wry. "I've seen worse," he murmured, almost under his breath.

"I've had worse."

They looked at each other a beat. Again, it should have been uncomfortable, but it wasn't. There was something going unsaid in the air between them. They were sizing each other up, each recognizing loss in the other and wondering whose was bigger.

Well. He visited the cemetery when she only worked there. He won.

Bella slumped against the pillow. "I'm cranky."

"Being hospitalized will do that to anyone. No one comes here to have a good time."

Bella considered that a moment. "The meds can be fun sometimes. Like morphine. That was a good time. Some people get all loopy and tell the nurse that she has a nice rack."

He tilted his head, and something like light sparked in his eyes. "Are you a lesbian?"

She arched her eyebrows. "First of all, did I say it was me? Secondly, I didn't say I wanted to motorboat the damn things. It was just a fact. Her boobs were spectacular."

"So, not a lesbian then?"

"Does it matter?"

His mouth quirked up, tugging at one corner, faltering as though he didn't quite remember how to form a genuine smile. He looked down at his hands. "No. Doesn't matter. I was just making conversation."

For one split second, a warmth rushed through Bella that she hadn't felt in so long she almost didn't recognize it. A spark. Not attraction—though, it wouldn't be hard to be attracted to him—but of momentary connection. She was charmed at the idea he thought she was a lesbian or that he might have a reason to care, maybe? Ridiculous, but that kind of spark usually was in Bella's estimation.

Or, maybe it was the way his eyes had lit up just enough that she glimpsed what he looked like with all his colors.

Whatever it was had Bella doing something she'd never done before. She looked at his ring finger.

He had a wedding ring.

Bella looked quickly down and busied herself trying to sit up. He came over, and she stiffened as he fished the bed's control from where it had fallen. He offered his hand to pull her up, but she ignored it, sitting up on her own.

"So, isn't someone going to miss you?" she asked, aiming for nonchalance, but her voice came out laced with irritation. If he was the kind of asshole who was hanging out with a stranger and avoiding his family, she wasn't sure she wanted to know him. "Wife? Or a job?"

He stepped backward. If he registered her ire, it didn't show on his face. All the same, her words had an affect on him. His eyes had gone blank, toneless. He sank back into his seat and drummed his fingertips on his knee in an absent way. "No work today. It's Sunday. But as luck would have it, I made sure work could get by without me for a while."

There was something in the way he said it that made a chill go through Bella. Her throat got tight, and her heartbeat quickened. She shook the eerie feeling off.

"I haven't got anywhere pressing to be," he said, cadence even and inflectionless.

Bella nodded slowly. She thought she knew who he visited in the cemetery.

She had to swallow around a lump in her throat. Still, her voice was raspy when she spoke again. "Think we can find something worth watching?" She glanced at the television set.

"No harm trying."

* * *

 **A/N: Hmmm.**

 **How are we doing, kiddos?**


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Look I'm back! Let's see what my angsty children are up to.**

* * *

It felt just as wrong to leave the hospital the second night as the first. The idea of leaving Bella alone didn't sit well.

Part of him knew it was overkill. Every time Charlotte had landed in the hospital, Edward could hardly be pressed to leave to shower. However, most people left their wives, husbands, and even children to sleep in their own beds. Edward understood why that was and didn't judge; it just had never felt right to him.

Then again, his days with Charlotte had been numbered. Though he'd hoped for the best, he knew there was every chance each night in the hospital would be the last. It was a compelling reason to ignore the comforts of home.

Bella, on the other hand, was on the mend. She was awake more often, her vitals on the uptick. Still, she seemed so alone, Edward couldn't stand the idea his leaving would make her even more lonely.

They were strangers, he had to remind himself. It was probably weird—that he'd spent all day in a chair at a stranger's bedside, spaced out in front of the tiny television. More than likely when she had a bit more strength and energy, she'd call him out as a creeper and send him packing. He wondered if he was scaring her—invading her space when she was too weak and vulnerable to fend him off.

He didn't think that was the case. She wasn't glad he was there. Glad wasn't the right word, but she wasn't scared or even resigned to his continued presence. It didn't seem strange for him to be there, but he had no real way of knowing if they were on the same page. He'd have to ask her when he saw her tomorrow.

"Tomorrow," Edward mumbled to himself with a scoff. Poor woman. Apparently, since he had nothing else to do with time he didn't think he'd have, she was his life now.

As he rounded the corner into his neighborhood, Edward's sardonic smile fell. There was a car in his driveway. His sister's car. He parked and bowed his head, pinching the bridge of his nose. He wasn't sure he had the energy for Alice today. Not that he could remember the last time he'd had energy for even the most sedate member of his social circle, but Alice could wear out a toddler.

The thought of facing his sister left him exhausted. He took several deep breaths before he got out of the car and walked in his front door, already craving the silence he knew he wouldn't get.

Her quick steps were the first thing he heard. She saw him, gasped, and flew at him, knocking them both into the door.

"Oh, my God. Oh, my God. Oh, my God." Alice's voice trembled and broke as she squeezed him so hard, he sucked in a breath. She made a sharp noise. It took Edward a beat to realize it was a sob.

"Alice?" He put a hand to her back. "What's happened? What's wrong?"

She pulled back at that, her features twisting into a livid glare. "What's wrong?" Her voice rose several octaves. Her tear-streaked cheeks turned scarlet. "I thought you were dead, you incredible asshole."

"Why would you think—" Edward winced when he realized what had happened. He glanced to the side. He'd forgotten about the four notes he'd left in their envelopes on the coffee table the day before. They were all ripped open now, the pages strewn where Alice had dropped them when he walked in the door. "Oh."

"Oh?" Alice sucked in a shaky breath as though trying to calm herself. "That's all you have to say?"

"What do you want me to say, Alice?" he asked, sounding tired to his own ears. He moved past his sister and sat down on the couch, his head tilted back to stare at the ceiling. "I'm still here."

Silence fell between them, save for Alice's staccato breaths and sniffles. Some small voice in his head whispered that he should go to her, giver her a damn hug. But the voice was far away, and he was lethargic. By the time he thought about it, Alice had already come to sit on the opposite side of the couch from him.

"Are you really that miserable?" she asked after a minute, her voice tremulous and soft.

Edward sighed. He didn't want to talk about this for so many reasons not the least of which was that his rational mind knew how it sounded. "I'm not miserable."

Miserable wasn't the right word. He wasn't suffering. It was hard to breathe sometimes, but that wasn't the same thing as being in agony.

"Then why—"

"Attention seeking. Revenge." He shrugged. His heart and lungs felt like they were in a vice grip, but his tone was flippant. "What's the cliche? It's not that I want to die; I just don't really want to live."

"Can you not be a dick about this?"

"See, you're wishing I went through with it now, aren't you?"

"Edward!"

He should have felt bad, ashamed, even amused. He didn't feel anything. That was part of the problem.

"I didn't do it." He paused a beat. "Did you tell Mom and Dad?"

She exhaled in a gust. "I haven't yet. I just got here. I was too busy looking through your house, wondering if I was going to find you dead in a bloody bathtub or with your brains splattered all over your bed."

"I don't even own a gun, and I wouldn't have left a mess for you to find."

"Holy hell." Alice pushed to her feet. She started to pace, running her hands through her hair as she did. "I can't believe you're talking about it like this. You had a plan."

He'd had a list. "I didn't do it," he said again, a note of irritation find its way into his tone. "Look, can you just not tell Mom and Dad? They wouldn't handle it well."

She stopped pacing and stared at him. " _I'm_ not handling it well. And Christ, you think they'd freak out if they found out you want to commit suicide; what did you think would happen if you actually did?"

He lifted his head from the back of the couch and glared back at her. "I didn't plan to be around for that part, did I?"

The blood drained from her face. She walked over to him and knelt on the couch beside him. She took his face in her hands, her eyes so full of tears. He stared back at her, willing himself to feel something. A lump had formed in his throat, but all he found in his heart was an empty void.

"Please, please get help," Alice said in a broken whisper. "You need to talk to someone. If you—"

Edward got up, pulling out of his sister's grip. "I saw a therapist every other week for a year."

"If the first one isn't a good fit—"

"Alice." Edward shook his head. "My plans changed. I'm still here. Can't we leave it at that?" He sunk down in the armchair, rubbing his tired eyes.

"What stopped you? I know it wasn't us. Those letters made that clear."

Edward laughed, the sound wry. "I got distracted." He sighed. "It's not about you. It's not about any of you. It's not a matter of you being not good enough or anything like that."

"You just think there's nothing left for you? Charlotte is gone, and you wish you'd gone with her? There's nothing you want if you can't have her?"

"It's not…" He huffed in frustration. He didn't have the right words. It wasn't about Charlotte really. Neither he nor Alice were fools. He knew damn well if Charlotte hadn't died, they wouldn't be sitting here having this conversation. But the way he felt, what he wanted, wasn't about losing his wife. It wasn't about him being unable to see a future for himself if he couldn't have the future he'd planned with her. The problem was that he could see his future. He could feel how many years he had left in him.

"I'm just tired." How could he explain the effort it took to interact with everyone? With people at work, with his family? He was exhausted all the time; weary at a bone-deep level. Alice didn't understand what she was asking, wanting him to endure it for forty, fifty, sixty more years for everyone else's sake.

He ached. He just wanted to go to sleep.

Alice took a deep breath. "What about meds? It's a brain chemistry thing, right? Partly? You said you were seeing a therapist. Didn't they recommend something? Refer you to a psychiatrist?"

Edward twisted in his seat. He opened the drawer of the end table, retrieved the prescription bottle there, and tossed it at her. She caught it easily.

"This is full," she said.

He shrugged.

"Edward, if you don't even try—"

His temper flared. "What are you going to do, Alice? Strap me down and force me to swallow them?" He scoffed. "That'll improve my mood." He shook his head, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees. "Look, you don't have to bargain for time. You have time. Something came up, and I'm going to see it through."

"And after that?"

Edward slumped in his chair.

 _ **~0~**_

Up until his sister had found his letters, Edward hadn't stopped to think about what would have been, had he been able to complete his checklist. This morning marked the second sunrise he wouldn't have seen. He'd had three or so more meals than he would have. He might have given some measure of comfort to someone who otherwise would have been hospitalized and alone.

Looking out his window at the rising sun, Edward brought a cup of coffee to his lips. Coffee was one of those things he did out of habit. When he went to sleep, he always had the coffeemaker ready. In the morning, the first thing he did was stumble to the kitchen to switch it on.

He took another sip and wondered if this coffee was any good. He'd never have been able to tell. Nothing tasted good to him these days.

Edward thought of Bella and wondered what it would taste like to her. He wondered about her worst day, if she'd had one—a day she almost hadn't survived. He wondered if she'd looked out at the sunrise, knowing she almost didn't see this one. He wondered if her next meal had been the sweetest or most savory she'd ever tasted.

Doubtful. Chemo did horrible things to the taste buds.

Edward considered his cup of coffee another moment. Then, he set his mug down, making a mental checklist in his head of what he needed for his newest plan.

 _ **~0~**_

Some hours later, Edward paused outside Bella's hospital room, caught by the sound of her voice. She was upset. His heart skipped a beat. Was the doctor in there with bad news?

"Jesus, Liam. I already told you what happened." There was a pause, then she made an exasperated noise that was strangled by a wheezing cough. "I can't stop faking it if I never started. I'm sick. I'm literally in the hospital right now." A beat. 'Oh, what do you want from me? I'm not that good of an actress." Another round of coughs. "What do you want? A picture of me in the hospital? A note from my doctor? Enough already. Just let me talk to my daughter."

Another moment of silence where Edward could only hear her labored breaths. Her voice was strained when she spoke again. "You know you can't do that. You're not supposed to do that. Our agreement is ordered by a judge, Liam. It's not about what you want."

Then, "Liam? Liam! Fuck!" She coughed, the sound making his chest ache. When that fit was done, he could hear her ragged breaths and something else.

She was crying, he realized. Not hysterically. It was a soft, heartbreaking sound that twisted even Edward's cold heart. He hesitated. Should he really intrude?

He thought of what she'd said the day before about her daily phone call being the only contact she had with her daughter. He could figure out pretty easily what was happening here. Her ex husband was taking even that away from her. Anyone could use a friend after something like that.

Adjusting his grip on the bag in his hand, Edward knocked on the door before he stepped inside the room. "Hey."

Bella looked startled. "Hi." She turned her face away, wiping at her eyes and sniffling. "You're back."

"I said I would be, but you were half asleep."

She scoffed and sniffed hard again, banging her head back against the pillow. "Yeah. I lost most of the last two days." She had her cell phone gripped tightly in her hand on her lap.

Edward sat in the chair by her bedside. "So, that whole thing didn't sound like fun."

She grimaced. "Heard that, did you?"

"Not all of it, and not on purpose." He had a strange urge to touch her, to cup her cheek. "I'm sorry he made you sad. You don't deserve that on top of everything else you're going through."

"I'm not sad, I'm pissed. I cry when I'm angry. It's really inconvenient." Wrapping her arms around herself, Bella looked down at her lap. "Don't worry about it. I'm just another ex-wife who'd cheerfully murder her ex-husband. Nothing new to see here."

"I'll hold him down so you only have to stab him once."

The barest hint of a smile tugged at her lips.

"He won't let you talk to Mac even though you have a court order?" Edward prompted as gently as he could. "He can't do that, can he?"

Bella stared straight forward, breathing in and out slowly. He was sure she was about to tell him to fuck off. But, after a few moments of quiet, she spoke softly. "Technically he can't. The problem is, there's no real chance of repercussion if he doesn't stick by the court order." Her voice was bitter. "He lives across the country. I can't drag him in front of a judge every time he pulls this kind of crap. I can't afford it, for one thing. Even if I could, if he didn't make some kind of excuse—which he's really good at—the most a judge could do is threaten him with jail time. Mac would end up with my ex-in-laws who hate me even more than Liam does."

Edward had so many questions, all of which he knew weren't his business. "That sounds like a rock and a hard place."

"Yeah." Bella stared at the ceiling, shaking her head.

When she didn't go on, Edward opted for a subject change. "Did you eat breakfast?"

Bella looked bemused. She didn't answer, but glanced at the rollaway table on the other side of the bed. Specifically, she looked at the still-covered plate. "I don't really mind hospital food, but breakfast always sucks. Lumpy oatmeal or runny eggs." She made a face like she was about to throw up.

"Well, I made breakfast for you, if you're interested."

Her eyes popped wide. "What?"

"Strawberry-cream filled french toast. Eggs scrambled hard. Hash browns. Bacon. I don't know what you like. You don't have to have any of it, but I figured it might be nice to take a break from hospital food."

Bella stared at him, her mouth open and a strange look in her eyes. She sucked in a sharp breath, giving her head a shake. "Sorry. I'm a little...I don't…" She shook her head again. "You made it for me?"

Edward shifted in his seat, unsure how to read her response. "Don't feel obligated to eat any of it, but yes."

"Sorry." Her eyes had gone glassy. "Christ, you must think I'm so weepy. I'm not. I'm just sick, full of drugs, and… Well, I guess I can't remember the last time someone did something so nice for me."

Again, there was that pang in his heart. He wanted to ask, but he didn't want to push. "I wouldn't thank me yet. It's been a long time since I've cooked anything. It could be poisonous just by default."

She smiled. It was a small smile, but a genuine one, and her sad, brown eyes looked just a little bit brighter.

"I also brought freshly brewed coffee." He lifted a thermos out of the bag.

"Well, that settles it." She reached for the thermos eagerly. "Let's see how bad of a cook you are."

She poured the coffee into the cup he provided, taking a couple of creamers and a couple of packets of sugar as well. Edward watched her surreptitiously as he uncovered the plates he'd brought. He'd made a special trip to the market to find something to keep them warm on their journey. He was pleased to see it had worked. The toast, eggs, and bacon were still warm.

"Everything smells so good." She lifted her steaming coffee cup to her nose and breathed in as deeply as she could, coughing a little as she did so. "Mm."

Edward found the corners of his mouth turning up slightly. He couldn't help but watch her as she took the first reverent sip of coffee.

She tilted her head to the side, looking at the cup and then at him. "This is good, but there's something strange about it."

"Ah, yeah. Sorry I didn't warn you. It's blueberry coffee."

"Blueberry?"

"From Yellowstone." His lip twitched and he busied himself cutting his slice of French toast into pieces. "My family took me last year. My wife…" His throat got thick, and he had to swallow hard. Was he really about to tell her this?

But, she'd given him private pieces of herself. It seemed a fair trade. "Charlotte, my wife, used to collect coffee when we traveled. It was the one thing she always had to pick up—that bag of local coffee. When I went to Yellowstone last year, I bought it out of habit. They do blueberry coffee out there, apparently."

Bella didn't say anything right away. "Your wife is gone?" she asked after a few beats.

Edward nodded, pushing a piece of French toast into a small pool of syrup. "She died. Two years ago now."

"Cancer?"

He wondered how she'd guessed, and but only nodded again. "Brain tumor."

"I'm sorry." She reached out, pressing the tips of her cold fingers to his knuckles with the most tentative touch.

Edward looked up. He had the strangest sense, and he took a deep breath. It seemed to go all the way to the bottom of his lungs—the first time he could breathe that deeply in as long as he could remember. He held Bella's kind, sad gaze for another beat before he nodded. "Thank you."

They ate in a companionable silence for a few minutes. Edward watched her, trying not to outright stare. There was something in the way she was enjoying her food, savoring, that held his attention. He turned her words over in his head. It had been a long time since anyone had shown her any kindness.

"Your mother doesn't live nearby. Do you see her often?" Edward asked, hoping he sounded nonchalant.

Bella paused, a bite halfway to her mouth. "Ah."

"I'm sorry." Edward rubbed the back of his neck and gave a small laugh. "I hope I don't sound deranged, but I keep forgetting we're strangers. I'm probably making you uncomfortable."

"You're not, which might be strange. I can count on one hand the number of people who have seen me asleep." She offered a small smile. "Well, medical personnel aside. But you've made me breakfast when I had a bad day, and you've literally picked me up off the floor. Granted, it's not the best way to start a friendship, but there are worse things."

"Much worse things," Edward agreed.

Bella took a deep breath. "If you're wondering why my mother isn't here, that's my fault." Her lips twitched downward. "She gave me some bad advice. I haven't forgiven her." Another breath. "It's what cost me my daughter."

Edward exhaled on a gust. "Oh."

"It's not fair of me to blame her, because Liam was the one who took Mac." Bella had stopped eating completely. She folded her arms across her chest, staring off to the side. Her breath shook. "He didn't give me any warning. He was there when I left in the morning. He and Mac were gone when I got home."

"Jesus Christ."

"He flew back to his family." Bella swallowed hard. "I had a window. I could have challenged him legally. I could have made him bring her back until a legal custody arrangement could be reached." She closed her eyes. "But I was so weak. It was at the worst part of my treatment. I had cancer. I don't remember if we talked about that."

"I'd figured."

"Yeah." She ran her hands through her short hair. "I had no energy. My treatments made my brain cloudy, changed the way my thought process and memory worked. My mother came to be here for me." She scoffed. "As much good as that does for anyone. She told me I needed to fight one battle at a time.

"I know I should take responsibility. I'm an adult, and I make my own decisions. It made sense to me at the time. I was so sick and weak. I wanted my daughter, but I also didn't want her to see me like that."

Bella shuddered. "But custody law has a lot to do with the precedence. I'd let him take and keep my baby for months at that point. To bring her back to a sick mother when Liam had a support system in place?" She shook her head. "I didn't have a chance."

Edward stared. "I… Bella, I can't even wrap my head around that. Being so cruel to another human being, let alone my sick wife. The mother of my child."

"Yeah."

He couldn't help it. He reached out and took her hand, squeezing it. She looked up into his eyes, surprise settling to thankfulness. She squeezed back, her sad smile genuine.

* * *

 **A/N: Difficult conversations all around. How are you doing, ducks?**

 **Here's to a happier 2018 for all of us**


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: Zzzz. Late night update. Happy Friday.**

* * *

Sleep was a blessing and a curse.

Bella had long ago lost her patience with being sick. When she was fighting her illness, she'd developed a deep loathing of her body. It was nonsensical. Her body had been damaged in the war she'd waged. The treatment aimed at killing the cancer had wreaked havoc on more of her bodily functions than she could count. Her senses, her nerves—there was nothing like serious illness to make it clear how complex a machine the body was, and how its wiring could go utterly haywire.

Remission and recovery wasn't an instantaneous thing. Bella knew she was lucky. She'd won the war against cancer when so many others had fallen, but it made the aftermath frustrating. The cancer was gone. Her body should work.

Rational or not, Bella was angry that something as mundane as a common cold had escalated so severely, left unchecked by her battered immune system. Even now that her health was, once again, on the upswing, her body was uncooperative. Lethargy plagued her, making her limbs heavy and weak. She still slept more often than she was awake.

Bella opened her eyes, disoriented from her perpetually unsatisfying nap. She blinked in the light from the window and the fluorescents above, trying to figure out the last thing she remembered. She huffed, irritated at falling asleep yet again, and managed to bring on a coughing fit.

"Hey, easy."

By now, Bella wasn't surprised to hear Edward's voice when she woke up. She couldn't say she understood him—why he felt the need to be there for a woman he'd only known in passing and how the hell could he put his life on hold to sit at her bedside for hours on end? But she was grateful he was there. He came to her side, bracing his arm around her to help her sit up.

"Dammit," Bella muttered, her voice raw as the coughing fit finally subsided. She leaned back against her pillows, exhausted, wincing at each beat of her heart against her aching lungs and ribcage. Her rage only doubled when she reached out to pick up the glass of water by her bedside only to find her fingers were too weak to keep the plastic cup steady. Water sloshed over the sides.

"Here." Edward put a hand around hers, not taking the cup from her but helping her guide it to her mouth. Again, she was grateful. Though she was long past feeling ashamed at how much help she needed when she was sick, Edward gave her what dignity he could.

Bella sighed and shook her head. "I'm never going to get out of here at this rate."

"I have news about that."

" _You_ have news about that?" Bella quirked an eyebrow.

Edward gave her a sheepish smile. "Your elusive doctor came in while you were sleeping. He was only here for a minute, of course, and he assumed I was a, um, trusted person."

He assumed Edward was her husband. Most of the staff did. Bella nodded that she understood.

"He said they were going to release you later on this afternoon or tomorrow morning at the latest. Your numbers have stabilized. There's nothing more they can do here that can't be done at home—bed rest, plenty of fluids, take your meds."

"Oh." As glad as she was at the possibility she could be dozing in her own bed tonight, her mind went straight to the three flights of stairs that she'd have to traverse to get there. "That's...good news."

Edward had a weird, twisted look on his face. He hesitated a moment before he spoke again. "Are you sure there's not someone you can call to check in on you?" he asked gently. "A friend? The doctor said you'd need help so you can rest well."

Bella scoffed, a small smile tugging at her lips. "I've managed much worse by myself. I'll live."

When Edward was silent at that, Bella rolled onto her side to face him. "It's not as pathetic as it sounds. That was just the way the cookie crumbled." She shook her head, old bitterness sour on her tongue. "You know those kids' books? A Series of Unfortunate Events? If they hadn't already taken the title, I'd have used it for my life.

"My mother lives in Arizona. I used to live there too." She had to work to keep the grimace off her face. Her fingers flexed into a fist as she gripped the thin hospital blanket. "That's where I met Liam. We were both at NAU."

She had to swallow hard. "Long story short? It was circumstance. Liam had a job opportunity here. I dropped everything—my friends, my family, my job—and moved here with my husband. It was only a couple months afterward that I got sick. I hadn't found a job by then, so there were no work friends." She shrugged. "And since then, I've either been sick or working a job that doesn't require coworkers."

"And you sent your mother away," Edward said.

Bella ducked her head.

"I didn't mean that any sort of way." Edward put a hand over hers, giving her a quick squeeze. "Just processing."

"You wouldn't be wrong to judge. I only have myself to blame for being alone." Bella traced idle circles around the blanket with the pad of her finger. "She'd come if I asked her. She's never done anything to hurt me on purpose. Technically speaking, all she did was give me some bad advice."

"But you associate her with the loss of your daughter. You don't need to justify who you want or don't want in your life, but it's understandable to me that you have a hard time seeing her."

Bella raised her head. By now, she'd have thought this man couldn't surprise her any more than he already had. She hadn't told anyone about what she'd done to her mother. The nurses at her visits, back when she was fighting the worst of her sickness, couldn't hide their incredulity when she said she'd sent her mother away.

One of them, a kindly big momma bear of a nurse, had patted her hand. "Whatever she did, sugar, this isn't the kind of thing you do alone."

Beggars couldn't be choosers, she meant.

When Bella imagined telling someone this story, she expected to be called a martyr. Her mother had honestly tried to be there for her. She wrapped her arms around herself, rubbing her shoulders. "She's bad with that level of illness anyway. She used to wring her hands a lot."

"Helpful."

"Always."

Edward leaned forward, his elbows on his knees. After a beat, he looked up at her from underneath his long lashes. "And your father?"

Bella sighed. "He died. A boating accident when I was seventeen."

"I'm sorry." Edward didn't sound shocked. He was, Bella was beginning to realize, an intuitive sort.

"I lived with him, mostly. Since I was seven until he died. He and my mom divorced when I was a baby." Bella had no idea why she'd admitted to that. It was much more than he'd asked.

Could he put it together, she wondered? Could he see what had happened, how she'd ended up marrying young to a man like Liam—a man she should have seen wasn't ultimately compatible with who she was?

But then, he didn't know anything about Liam. Not really.

Edward rubbed his hands together, his expression pinched in thought. Speaking of intuitive, Bella was 90% sure what he was going to say when he finally raised his head. She braced herself to adamantly refuse.

 _ **~0~**_

Edward Cullen, it turned out, could be a persuasive son of a bitch. Which was how, when she was released late that afternoon, she found herself at the bottom of the apartment complex's steps, staring up at them with her arms crossed hard over her chest.

She had no reason to think he had any room to judge her. She didn't live in the best part of town, and she had an apartment the size of a postage stamp, but what was that to him? All she really knew about him was that he'd lost his wife, he was handsome as sin, and he seemed to have way too much time on his hands. For all she knew, he lived in his parents' basement.

Of course, he had a nice car. Not a Richie Rich car, but a nice, comfortable car.

"Jesus, Bella," he said under his breath.

"Yeah, I know it's a little shabby, but—"

"No. That's not what I was talking about." He looked around the lobby. "This is cute."

She snorted, and he smiled. "I mean, you were going to try to get up these steep steps by yourself? What floor did you say you were on?"

Bella bristled and stood up straighter. "The third."

"Christ."

"I told you. I've managed them all by myself when I was dying. I'll be fine now."

He touched pressed a gentle hand to the small of her back and she felt, for a moment, that she could take a deep breath. "I know we haven't known each other long, but it's pretty obvious how strong you are. No one can question that." He offered her an arm. "But it's easier if you have someone to lean on, right?"

Her defensive posture relaxed a measure, and she nodded. She took the arm he offered, steadying herself as they started up the steps.

She knew he was watching her out of the corner of his eyes. She kept a firm grip on both him and the railing, taking one easy step at a time. The weakness that had seeped into her muscles hadn't left even though she was feeling better, so each step hurt just a little more. Her cheeks burned, but she forced herself to keep her head held high.

There was no shame in the fact her breath became labored after just five steps. She was recovering from a hospital stay, for fuck's sake, where she'd been because her lungs had needed a little help, among other things. She would make it up these stairs; it was just going to take awhile. And he was the one who'd insisted on coming with her, so he could live with it.

Edward didn't say a word. He walked beside her, step by patient step, or behind her when someone else needed to get by. Aside from letting her lean on his arm, he only touched her once, when a couple of assholes not paying attention knocked into her as they went running down the steps. Bella clutched the railing with both hands, her knees buckling. Edward slung an arm around her waist, holding her up and against him.

"Pricks," he muttered under his breath.

 _No kidding_ _,_ Bella thought but couldn't say. Her chest ached as she tried to catch her breath.

"Bella—" Edward started after a minute had gone by.

"I'm okay." Bella summoned all her strength, straightened up, and took another step. Edward's hand lingered on her back for another beat before he stepped away, going to walk at her side once again. She leaned on him even more heavily than she had before.

A few more steps got her to the top of the second floor. Her jaw was clenched against the frustration of it. They were just stairs, and she was a young woman. What if she'd needed groceries? Hell, she would need groceries if she was planning to eat this week.

What if she'd had McKenna?

Then again, if she'd had McKenna, she'd still have her mother. Renee might not be a good caretaker for a cancer patient, but she'd been a Kindergarten teacher, among her many jobs. She would at least be good for babysitting.

"I have to…" Bella panted, and sat down on the second step of the last flight of stairs. She rested her head against the wall, letting the coolness soothe her clammy skin. Her limbs trembled with weakness.

Time, the doctor had said. She wasn't sick. Not like that. Her body just needed time and rest to recover, but she would recover. Guaranteed.

With her eyes closed, she felt rather than saw Edward sit beside her. "My wife?" His voice was rough when he spoke. "There was no fighting her illness."

Bella furrowed her brow, but she didn't speak, concentrating instead on breathing.

"And since there was no fight, I couldn't really help her," Edward said. "I would have done anything to make it just a little easier."

Bella licked her lips and opened her eyes, turning her head so she could look at him. He had such beautiful eyes. Sad and lifeless, but a beautiful green. She swallowed, trying to find enough breath to speak, but what was there to say to that?

She had a lot of questions, but none she was going to ask in the stairwell of her rackety apartment building.

Instead, she let herself see the sincerity in his eyes. She'd been fighting for so long alone. Her illness. Her ex-husband. Poverty. She'd fought for survival in every sense of the word.

She pressed her tongue hard to the roof of her mouth. She'd trusted people before; trusted them to care for her. They'd failed.

Slowly, she reached out, draping her arm around Edward's shoulders. He was strong and solid. Her only intention was to lean on him, but he, apparently had other ideas.

She was left breathless for wholly different reasons as he swept her up in his arms. "What are you—"

"Just rest." He offered her a small smile. "You're the only one who can open the door. There's no sense in you passing out before we get there."

"I'm not going to pass out," Bella said, scowling at him.

He started up the stairs. "I give you five more minutes."

Bella gave in, then, and rested her head against his. "Show off," she muttered when his breath came just as slow and even as before.

"It was only the last flight. You did the hard work," he said easily, setting her on her feet so she could open the door for them.

Bella hesitated a moment before she unlocked the door. Her very first visitor, she realized, unless one counted the pizza guy.

Though she was still shaky, she tilted her chin up as she pushed inside. She tried to convince herself she didn't care what he thought of her place. She went to the couch and eased down on one end, glancing at him surreptitiously.

Edward craned his head, turning in a circle to take the vast majority of the place in. "This is nice."

She snorted. "Liar."

"No. I like it. It's a good use of space."

"Yeah, I studied at the school of Ikea." Bella smiled. "It's home, and it's mine."

Edward came to sit beside her on the couch. "It looks like you."

"Hah." Bella ducked her head. "Run down and falling apart?"

"No," he admonished. "And I can't explain it. This place is just you."

She looked around, wondering what the hell he actually saw. Edward put his hand on her knee in an innocent gesture. "Put your feet up." He stood. "I'm going to go see if I can make a better dinner out of whatever you have in your fridge."

"Good luck with that."

"I enjoy a challenge," he said from her tiny kitchen.

Bella rested her head against the back of the couch, listening to him opening and closing drawers. A lump rose to her throat that she had to swallow hard around.

The sound of simple companionship.

She liked this apartment, liked that it was hers, but she'd always hated how quiet it was. There was a comfort in the noise—even more so when Edward started humming.

It turned out Edward was right in his earlier prediction. He'd said she'd be passed out in five minutes. Her eyes drooped, and she was out like a light only a minute or two later.

* * *

 **A/N: Have a good weekend, kiddos.**


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: *boops* How are you, my friends? Let's continue.**

 **Sorry for the problem with the links. That was mostly my bad.**

* * *

Edward liked lists.

As Bella slept, he surveyed the contents of her fridge and pantry. He understood her skepticism that he could pull a meal out of what he found there. But, he'd managed a semblance of a vegetable soup using chicken bullion, tomato sauce, and mostly canned veggies.

With the soup simmering, Edward first made a list of easy to cook or put together foods. He had to consider that she wouldn't want him to be around her home all the time. He'd seen a slow cooker and decided it would be easy to put together a few ready-to-go meals she could just pop in the slow cooker in the morning. Breakfast burritos were also easy to make ahead and freeze so all she'd have to do was zap it in the microwave.

When he had about a week's worth of breakfasts, lunches, and dinner planned out, he made a shopping list. Meat—mostly chicken. Vegetables. Lunch meat. Bread. Orange juice and bottled water.

Lists were so soothing. He smoothed a hand over the print on the page. There was only one thing more satisfying than a good list, and that was checking things off it.

Since there'd been no sound from the living room since he'd set about his task, Edward wasn't surprised to find Bella fast asleep on the couch. He sat carefully on the opposite end of the couch, considering her sleeping face. She looked much more peaceful here at home, he mused. He could still hear the wheeze in her breath, but her face was more relaxed.

Her hand had fallen, open and palm up, on the center cushion. Edward's fingers twitched, and he had to fight the inexplicable urge to lace his fingers through hers.

It was natural, he told himself. He'd been caring for her. That was an intimate thing. It was natural to want to touch her. It was comforting, not only for him but for her. How long had she been without affectionate touch?

Edward shook his head. He wasn't quite sure he was doing the right thing—pestering this woman. She needed help, but that hadn't given him a right to press the issue when she said she'd go home alone. He didn't really regret it, especially after he'd seen those steps, but it didn't make him right. Touching her was off limits. That went double when she was unconscious.

Pushing to his feet, Edward went back into the tiny kitchen. He searched for something suitable and was glad to find a thermos. He transferred the still-hot soup into the container, found a bowl and put both on the coffee table in front of her. He grabbed the notepad and pen he'd seen on the counter and sat down again on the couch to write a quick letter.

As he put pen to paper he paused, a chill running down his spine. He remembered the eerie calm that had settled over him the last time he'd written a letter. It struck him as strange. Wasn't he meant to be sobbing? Shaking? But he'd been calm. Checking things off his list.

 _Dear Mom and Dad._

This wasn't that. This was just a quick note.

 _Bella—_

 _I went to the store. Back in a few._

 _E_

He left his phone number at the bottom and went out the door.

These days, Edward had a weird relationship with grocery stores. When he was married, shopping for groceries was one of his weekly chores. It only made sense given that he did the lion's share of the cooking. He'd enjoyed it—planning and making their meals.

Since Charlotte died, Edward didn't like grocery stores. Living alone didn't take much in the way of planning. So he didn't know what to expect now that he'd planned a shopping trip intending to cook for another woman.

Satisfying, he decided half an hour later as he was back in his car. He was looking forward to cooking for the first time in years. It was a strange thing to feel excited about, but he hadn't felt excited by anything in a long time.

He hadn't really felt anything in a long time.

As he climbed the stairs, heavy bags in his hands, Edward marveled again at what Bella had said. She went up these stairs when she was sick? How had she brought her groceries upstairs? Edward was winded, his arms aching by the time he got to the top of the second flight.

Pausing to catch his breath at the top of the third flight, Edward decided Bella's will was made of platinum.

He got to her door and paused, listening. She was yelling. A spike of fear went through him, and he opened the door without knocking.

Bella was sitting cross-legged on the couch, alone in the apartment with her phone to her ear. "Jesus Christ, Liam. I don't want to talk to you. Let me talk to Mac. You have no right to do this."

Anger lit like a flame in his gut, but what could he do? He went back out into the hallway to get the bags he'd dropped.

"I don't give a good god damn that I took the Lord's name in vain. I don't have to pretend I care about that kind of thing because we're divorced." She wheezed, tucking her head into her arm as she was wracked with coughs. "Dammit."

As Edward began to unpack the groceries, he stopped short when he heard Bella whimper. Her voice, when she spoke again, shook. "She doesn't want to talk to me because you fill her head with garbage. You're making her scared of me."

In another heartbeat, her temper was back. "God damn you. Let me talk to my daughter."

It was then Edward noticed there was something in Bella's hand as she gesticulated. It was a phone. His phone. Edward pressed a hand to his back pocket, realizing belatedly he must have left it here. He crossed the room, both wanting to get his phone back and wanting to comfort her.

"Liam, you son of a bitch. I'm going to get enough money together to see her, and you won't be able to keep her from me. You hear me? Dammit!" Bella flung her phone away from her. Edward jumped as it impacted with the wall with a loud bang. But Bella wasn't done. She flung everything she could get her hands on. Pillows, a book from the coffee table. Before Edward could get over his shock, she'd picked up the bowl he'd left for her to pour soup into and hurled it. The glass shattered against the wall, and Bella collapsed to the side, her body heaving with coughs.

Edward went to her then and knelt by the couch. She was crying and coughing all at once, smothering the noise in the couch cushion. Worried that she was going to asphyxiate, Edward stroked a hand down her back. He pressed a hand to her shoulder, urging her upright. When she rested a hand on his shoulder, he took that as a sign he could get closer.

He straightened up and sat down on the couch, bringing her upright with him. She shifted, bringing her fisted hand to her lips to cover her cough even as she ducked her head against him. Edward held her, massaging her with one thumb from her neck on down her spine.

A strange vibration against his chest, where her hand was pressed, drew both their attention. Bella raised her head, sniffling. "Fuck. I'm sorry," she said, her voice a rasp. Coughing into one hand, she offered him his phone with the other. "It was going off like crazy or I wouldn't have touched it." She took a deep breath and rested back against the couch, her eyes closed. "Your boyfriend seems like a pain in the ass."

Edward's eyes went wide as he looked at the phone. There were many missed calls and even more text messages not only from Emmett but from Alice. The last text message from Emmett was open.

Emmett: Not fucking around, Edward. I'm calling Mom and Dad right after I call the police.

"My boyfriend?" Edward echoed, not quite keeping up.

"Yeah, I'm sorry if it caused more problems for you. I couldn't figure out what he wanted. He was upset about not being able to find you." Bella raised her head and arched an eyebrow. "He's kind of controlling."

"Not my boyfriend." Edward gave a huff of laughter. "He's my brother."

"Oh. Sorry." Bella rubbed her temples. "The way he was interrogating me, I figured you were bi. Couldn't blame the guy if he was your boyfriend. You've been hanging out with me a lot."

"Currently unattached," Edward said, bemused and annoyed in equal measure. "My brother is a lawyer. I'm sure it was habit, but give me a second to clear this up, okay?"

"Sure."

Edward stepped out into the hallway, dialing Emmett's number even as he closed the door behind him. He ran his hand through his hair as he waited for the call to connect.

"Edward?" Emmett asked.

"Alice couldn't keep her mouth shut, huh?"

His brother scoffed. "You really expected her to keep something like that to herself?"

"She can tell her husband."

"You don't get to dictate how she handles finding out her brother's threatening to kill himself."

"I'm not threatening anything. I didn't do it."

"Yeah, Alice told me the story. You got distracted." He paused a beat. "That chick who answered your phone. Was that your distraction?"

Edward pinched the bridge of his nose. "It's a long story."

"Yeah, well. You can tell me all about it over dinner."

"Emmett."

"This isn't an argument I'm having with you, Edward. This is happening. You're done with this whole reclusive thing."

"Emmett," Edward said again through gritted teeth.

"Look. You're in pain. I can get that. Who the hell knows what I would do if I lost Rosie the way you lost Charlotte. But this isn't the answer."

"I'm still here. Nothing happened."

"Not arguing with you, bro." Emmett took a deep breath. "I'm offering you a plea bargain. Lunch or dinner with me or Alice once or twice a week. You answer our phone calls or we assume the worst." He hesitated a beat. "And you should have dinner with the family every other weekend at least."

"Or else what?"

"Or else I tell Mom."

"Jesus." Edward shook his head, leaning against the wall. "You're threatening to tattle on me."

"If it keeps your dramatic ass alive." Emmett let out a breath in a gust, and when he spoke again, his tone was gentler. "I'm not going to ask you to talk about your feelings. You know how well that'll go. It's been hard."

"Yeah," Edward said with a scoff.

Emmett grunted. "I know. I'm good at sticking my foot in my mouth." He hesitated. "I don't know what to say to you. And maybe it was easier in a lot of ways. I never had to figure out how to talk to you if you weren't around.

"But we're brothers. We're family. We're going to figure out how to talk to each other again, that's all."

The thought of all that conversation made Edward unbearably tired. He appreciated what his brother was trying to do, but that affectionate feeling was far away.

"You can bring that Bella chick if you want," Emmett tried.

Edward huffed. "It's not like that with us."

"It'd be okay if it was. You know that, right?"

"Yeah," Edward said dismissively. "Fine. I'll meet you tonight. Just text me where you want to go. I have things to do."

"What kind of things?"

"None of your business," Edward snapped. Then, "I'm not going to do anything you need to worry about."

"Yeah, okay." Emmett must have figured he was pushing his luck at that point. "I'll text you."

Edward pushed back inside Bella's apartment. She wasn't where he'd left her. Instead, he found her leaning heavily on a broomstick, hunched over a bit with the mess of the broken bowl at her feet. "Here, let me—" he began, moving to take the broom from her, but she stepped out of his reach.

"Hey, I made the mess." Bella stepped back, out of his reach. "I got this."

As much as Edward thought she should rest, he knew better than to argue. He gave her space, moving closer to the couch. "Did your phone survive?"

"It's alive. I knew a nice case was a good investment."

"Useful when your ex is a dickhead."

"Even better if I can throw it at his head." Bella sighed. "I'm also clumsy on my best days, so…"

With the mess she'd made all cleaned up, Bella ambled over to the counter where Edward was arranging the groceries he'd brought. She pulled herself up on the stool, looking exhausted. Edward wanted to tell her to go lay down, but he figured it wouldn't go well. Instead, he shook the full thermos of soup. "Late lunch?"

She eyed the thermos. "You made this before you went to the store?"

He winked at her. "Just try it."

She gestured at the bowl he put in front of her, indicating he could pour. "What about you? Too afraid to try your own food?"

With a smirk, he pulled down another bowl and poured himself some of his soup. He took her bowl and put it in the microwave, then went back to arranging the groceries.

"I can help you put those away," Bella said, about to slide off the stool.

"No, um." He looked up at her and pulled out a charming grin, knowing she'd probably feel bad about the idea of him cooking so much for her. "If you don't mind company for a few hours, I was going to prep meals for the week."

He explained his plan as he set the bowl of soup in front of her. She looked mildly exasperated. "That's so much work. Can I talk you out of it?"

"Of course. I'm not going to do anything that makes you uncomfortable." He pulled out his grin again. "But, I have all the ingredients here. You're sick, and it'll take a lot of energy to cook for yourself."

"My groceries tend toward frozen meals on a good day," she admitted.

"This will still take some work from you."

"Turning on a crockpot instead of the microwave. Right." Bella waved a hand. "Okay, but when I'm better, I'm making you a fancy dinner. I can cook too."

Edward stuck his hand out. "Deal."

Bella looked bemused. She took his hand. Their eyes met, and Edward sucked in a sharp breath. Bella licked her lips and, her eyes still on his, shook his hand. "Deal."

He was strangely reluctant to let her hand fall from his. Clearing his throat, he got back to the task at hand. Bella ate and laughed as she watched him. "Just bizarre. I don't think anyone's ever cooked for me. My dad was a single father and a police officer in a really small town. The old biddies kept him in frozen casseroles—kind of like you're doing now."

"Are you calling me an old biddy?"

"No. They actually got something out of the arrangement. Suckers for gossip, those folks."

Edward kept his eyes on the knife as he chopped. "Well, you can pay me in trade."

"What? Gossip?"

He flicked his eyes up to hers, and she grimaced. "You want to know what I was yelling at my asshole ex about? Besides the obvious?"

"You said something about getting together enough money to see your daughter?"

"Oh, that." She stirred her soup. "He has custody, but it's not like I lost my rights to see my daughter. Technically, we're supposed to work together to arrange visitation. He can bring her here. I can go over there. We can meet halfway. Technically, I'm supposed to have her for some holidays and a month in the summer."

"That makes sense."

"Yeah, well. I can't afford to travel. Theoretically, neither can he." She sounded bitter, and her lips were twisted in a sneer. "He ran to his parents. Supposedly, he's still looking for a job."

"So, he moved you away from your family and friends to follow him for a job, and then he ran to his parents without one?"

"That's just how much he wanted to get away from me."

Edward was curious, but he didn't push.

 _ **~0~**_

Emmett had given Edward carte blanche to pick a restaurant of his choice. Edward picked sushi because he knew Emmett hated it.

"Really, dude?" Emmett said, scowling as he dropped into the seat across from Edward.

"You said anywhere. I have a hankering for salmon."

"Salmonella," Emmett groused.

"It's pretty rare to get salmonella from salmon," Edward said with a faux chipper expression.

His brother leveled a glare at him. "Why are you being so petulant?"

"About being baby-sat like a child? Checking in like one of your friends with a parole officer? I can't figure why that would bother me."

"What are we supposed to do?"

Edward draped his arms over the back of his chair. "Leave me alone?"

"Yeah, because that worked so well before."

The brothers glared at each other. Then, Edward let out his breath in a slow gust, calming down. He was pissed, but he knew damn well he didn't have much of a right. He ran a hand over his eyes and pushed the menu toward his brother. "They have steak here, you know. The bento box with steak is good. And if you order the philly rolls without salmon, it's just filled with cream cheese."

"And seaweed. Nothing good can come out of food made with seaweed. That's ruining perfectly good cream cheese."

"The steak is good."

They lapsed into silence as they looked over the menu. It filled time. Edward, already knowing what he was going to order, spent the minutes trying to remember when it became such a chore to talk to his family. His big brother had always been good to him, only rarely telling him he was a pest as they were growing up.

After they ordered, the silence got awkward. Emmett rubbed the back of his neck. "You used to talk all the time, you know."

"What?"

"You never shut up. You're a fucking know-it-all."

Edward raised an eyebrow. "I still know more than you."

"Bitch, I'm a lawyer. Do you know how much school that is?"

"Okay, so you know more about the law. That's one thing."

"Thanks for the credit." Emmett smirked, but then he sighed. "I'm just saying, you used to talk all the time. I was thinking about that. But the last few years, even when you did show up—which was rare—you hardly said a word."

"What do you want to talk about?"

Emmett shrugged. The look on his face, so uncharacteristic for his easy-going brother, was twisted with all the things he wanted to talk about. Thankfully, though, all he said was, "I want to talk about whatever you want to talk about."

Edward pressed his lips into a thin line. He had a few choice responses to that one. There was one thing he really wanted to ask, but he was about ninety percent sure he was crossing a line.

Fuck it. It was only information. "Do you have any lawyer friends who practice family law?"

Emmett blinked. "What the fuck?"

* * *

 **A/N: How are we, kids?**


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: *hand holding***

* * *

Bella's boss, Jessica, was nice enough as bosses went. She wasn't that much older. They could have been friends in high school. She also had an annoying habit of talking with saccharine sweetness. It kind of made Bella conjure daydreams of punching her in the mouth. She couldn't possibly sound that placating with no teeth.

"I'm so sorry, Bella. It'd be unfair not to let Tyler finish out the week at least. But I'm so glad you're feeling better."

Bella rested her head against the wall. She was half-slumped over, one arm braced against the kitchen table. "I need to work, Jess." She cleared her scratchy throat.

"It sounds like you need just a little more rest."

"Jess—"

"Bella, I'm sorry. I promised him the hours already."

"Tyler is a college kid who's working for a little extra spending cash."

"And he works hard."

"I didn't say he doesn't, but—" Bella clenched her jaw. Somehow, she stopped herself from bashing her head against the wall. "It's fine. I get it. Regular schedule next week?"

"Of course."

Bella hung up the phone, trying to relax. Frustration was getting the better of her already, and she needed to be calm before her next call. She checked the time. It was almost four—six in Texas. Almost time.

After another minute, Bella took one more deep breath. She blew it out slowly, closed her eyes, and connected the call.

He picked up after three rings with a soft, "Hello," as if he didn't know damn well who it was. As if her name wasn't splashed across his screen. What did he have it under, she wondered. Maybe Satan. It might as well have been for the way he treated her.

"I'm calling for Mac," she said, keeping her tone even.

"She's in the bath."

Bella pressed her lips together. She counted to five. "Liam, this is my time. I get half an hour every day at six. That's what the judge ordered."

"She was a mess," Liam said, sounding almost bored. "I'm not going to let her track mud all over her grandmother's house just because of a phone call. I was raised better than that, and Kenna will be too."

Bella bristled, reading between the lines easily enough. He was forever implying that if she had custody of Mac, she wouldn't raise her right. "Fine," she said between clenched teeth. "I can call back at six-thirty."

"I'm not obligated to answer the phone at that time."

"It's been a week. I missed one call because I was in the hospital, barely conscious. Why are you doing this to me?"

He scoffed. "Nothing ever changes. You only think of yourself, Bella. It shouldn't matter what you want. What matters is what my daughter needs. Her needs come first. A real mother would know that."

"I am her real mother. _Our_ daughter was dirty. Not starving. Not bleeding. Not filthy and flea-ridden. She was dirty. She's four years old; don't tell me she's not dirty most of the time. A bath wasn't a necessity and you know it. A bath could have been put off half an hour."

"That's not up to you to decide."

"This is my time. If I lived there, I'd get her for days. All to myself. As it is, for thirty minutes a day, it's my time. All you have to do is give Mac the phone." She rubbed her temple, swallowing around the painful lump in her throat. "Look, I'm sorry you have to share our daughter. I know it wasn't the outcome you wanted, but I survived. Deal with it."

Now, she could hear the snarl in his voice. "What you did—"

"Is beside the point," she said, cutting him off before they could go down that old, tired road. "It can't be undone. If you want to punish me, find another way. Leave McKenna out of it. She's not a weapon, Liam. She's not a tool you use to hurt me."

"It's unbelievable how self-centered you are. No one needs a mother like you."

The line disconnected. Bella slammed a fist into the table. Even though she knew damn well what was going to happen, she called back once. Twice. Three times. The fourth time, it went straight to voicemail.

Burying her head in her folded arms, Bella muffled a scream of fury and frustration. It was a long scream. When she ran out of air, she took a deep, ragged breath and screamed again. She screamed again and again—wordless rage against injustice.

Impotent rage.

Anger gave way to a deep despair. She wanted her daughter. She needed her baby. She was missing something essential to her survival. For the last two years, she'd scraped by—the daily conversations with her little girl like a bandaid put over a gouge in her heart. Those conversations were the only link she had with her precious child. It was utter agony to be without her, and without that one small morsel of relief, there was no way she could survive.

A mother would move heaven and earth to get to her child. Easy to say, but the reality was different. Bella was helpless. Completely powerless.

Hopeless.

Eons might have passed before the vice grip around her chest, the claws digging into her heart, eased just a little. When Bella didn't feel like she was going to asphyxiate, smothered by grief and fury, she found a tiny ounce of perspective.

This wasn't the worst day. This wasn't rock bottom.

She remembered rock bottom so viscerally it made her stomach twist and chased the breath from her lungs. She remembered the exact moment of impact. She'd begun her free fall the second she was diagnosed, had freewheeled through the air and terrifying speeds, being pummeled all the while. And now she was here, her body dashed against the most unforgiving, jagged rocks and crushed by raining debris.

It hurt. There were no words for that kind of agony. She was crumpled on the floor of her bedroom. That was as far as her body had taken her before weakness swallowed her whole. She had no muscle, and no energy left. Her nerves were on fire. Her bones and muscles ached—the kind of hurt that was like the point of a blade digging, digging, digging to the marrow, spreading ice through her veins. She writhed as she retched, her body jolting and arching under the assault as her her stomach tried to turn itself inside out.

There. That moment. When she was covered in her own sick, curled in on herself, gasping for breath, prostrate in pain and completely, utterly alone. That moment was when she thought she'd made the wrong choice.

What was the point of fighting this? She'd been abandoned by her husband, her child rendered motherless despite her best intentions. She was going to die anyway, except now she would be alone. Rather than mourned, everyone would just nod, satisfied. Justice served.

The flame of her life dimmed. Flickered.

When her breaths kept coming, her body, weary though it was, clung to consciousness, she got pissed.

That was when she decided, fuck Liam. He was hell bent on proving her life wasn't worth a damn. But she wasn't going to give him the satisfaction of dying alone, unwanted. She was going to survive and thrive. Her life, the life she'd fought for, was going to be beautiful.

For a few more minutes, Bella just breathed. When she was calmer, she laughed wryly to herself.

Her life was going to be beautiful. Sure.

She thought of the pitiful amount she had stored away in her savings account—the tiny scraps of cash she'd been able to save with the hope of bringing McKenna to her. She needed enough to fly to Texas round trip twice herself and once for McKenna. She wasn't even close.

Did she have enough for one court date, though? Maybe her money would be better spent having a judge reprimand Liam. He couldn't keep yanking away these half hour phone calls at his own whim.

Bella sighed, knowing how futile this battle was. She pinched the bridge of her nose, closing her eyes against a pounding headache. What she needed was to stop thinking about it for a little while. She'd had almost nothing to do for a week while she recovered except to try to find another option. She'd do anything to get to her baby. Anything.

But, as it had gone the last two years, no solution had presented itself. She could only drive herself headlong into roadblocks so many times without getting brain damage.

It was days like this that Bella really missed her Arizona friends. She needed someone to take her out on the town—maybe get a little drunk with her. It had been so long since she'd done anything to let off steam.

Her head snapped up when she remembered she did have a friend here. Edward had gone back to work a couple of days ago, but he still texted frequently throughout the day. He'd brought her more groceries yesterday even though she'd regained most of her strength and could have gone herself.

He was a good man, a beautiful man both inside and out. Bella still wasn't sure what to make of him, with his sad eyes. He had secrets that hinted of a quiet darkness, but, somehow, she didn't feel like it was a dangerous one. As distracted as she was by her own problems, she had enough room in her head to be curious about him.

Regardless, friendship was like any relationship. It needed tending; it needed both give and take. She'd done nothing but take since they met. The least she could do was treat him to a meal, maybe a few drinks.

 _ **~0~**_

Toward the end of their meal, Bella had to laugh.

"I'm sorry," she said, breaking the semi-awkward silence—one of many that evening—that had fallen over them. "I think I forgot how to have a friendly conversation."

She'd been trying to figure out what was happening. This last week and few days she'd enjoyed Edward's company a lot. She was beginning to realize, though, that their relationship had been marked with quiet companionship. They sat on the couch, making the occasional observation about whatever they were watching. She'd invited him over to help her eat some of the meals he'd prepared for her, knowing that he worried even though he was obviously trying to give her some space.

It was strange in a way—how comfortable she was being silent with him. She felt close to him in a lot of ways, like they were more than mere acquaintances. They were true friends, comfortable enough with each other to touch without awkwardness. "We never did the chit-chat thing, did we?" she asked.

He chuckled and ducked his head. "It's my fault."

Bella started to protest, but he shook his head as he looked up at her. "No. It really is. I've been nervous all night."

"What do you have to be nervous about?" she asked, brows furrowed.

He laughed again, running a hand over his face. "It's not chit-chat," he warned. Then, he sighed. "Honestly, I've been trying to figure out how to say this without scaring you and without you thinking I'm a lunatic. It makes a lot of sense in my own head, but that's not saying much."

"Well, if you're trying not to make me nervous, you're not doing a good job of it," Bella said, curious and more than a little anxious now. "What's going on?"

"Nothing yet." Another sigh and he leaned across the table, his look earnest. "I told you my brother was a lawyer. Well, I hope I'm not crossing a line here, but I asked him if he knew any good family attorneys."

Bella sucked in a sharp breath. Her hackles rose a fraction, but she couldn't find any logic behind her sudden defensiveness; he hadn't said really anything yet. He was watching for her reaction. "What did you need a family attorney for?" she asked, voice tight.

"I don't." His eyes searched hers. "Really, I was just asking general questions, trying to understand the legality of your situation with your daughter."

"You mean you think I'm not doing enough." She was struggling not to glower.

It must not have worked because he straightened up, his palms up and out and in a placating gesture. "Of course not." Tentatively, he reached out, touching her hand with the tips of his fingers. "Bella, someone would have to be blind not to see how much you love your daughter. You don't have to tell me you've tried to move mountains to get to her. That's why I can't accept it. It's too much injustice."

Bella scoffed, but her shoulders relaxed a fraction. "Yeah."

"It was just a conversation. I knew custody law was arbitrary. I believed you when you told me that. I guess I just had to know how arbitrary. Emmett's friend explained it to me—that when a couple can't work something out between themselves, it's left to the judge's discretion what's best based on any number of factors."

Bella nodded. "Like the fact I didn't immediately file an injunction to get Liam to bring McKenna back here, in my case. There's no way a Texas judge would have awarded me any kind of custody. McKenna was safe and settled in Texas. I was dealing with being sick, having to find a new apartment because I couldn't afford rent." She waved a hand. "And on and on."

"That was then."

"Not much has changed," Bella said with a humorless huff.

Edward grimaced. He looked down at his hands.

"You're nervous again," Bella said, confused.

"Yeah." He took a steadying breath, looking off to the side. "I've been thinking a lot about...factors. If there was a chance you could get a Texas judge to send McKenna back to you."

All the breath left her in a gust. "Edward," she said, the word barely a whisper. She cleared her throat, pushing past the terrible squeeze of her heart. "I'm fighting to make him give me my half hour on the phone every day. That would be a win. I haven't seen her in two years because even flying to her is a pipe dream for me right now."

"That's what I'm saying." He reached again, this time covering her hands with his. "It all has to do with factors. How many you have versus how many he has. If you can present a better life for your child, a judge, even a Texas judge, may agree it's in McKenna's best interest to be with you."

Bella pulled her hands out from under his, wrapping her arms around herself. Her heart was beating fast and tears stung her eyes. "Edward, I know you're trying to help, but whatever this quack told you—"

"She didn't tell me anything specific," he said gently. "She gave me a background. The plan is mine. And I know I can't make any promises. All I'm saying is that I can give you a fighting chance."

Bella flinched at his choice of words.

"Just listen to me," Edward said quickly before she could speak. "Listen to the whole plan. I know I'm probably going to freak you out, but listen before you decide."

She stared at him but gave the tiniest of nods that he could continue.

He seemed to steel himself. "I think we should get married."

A chill went down her spine and she sat up ramrod straight. "What?"

"Hear me out," he reminded her. "A marriage of convenience. Just long enough to paint a picture. First, look at the factors he has. Apparently, he's been unemployed for two years, living off his parents, right? The major thing he has going for him is simply that McKenna is there.

"If you married me, this is what your picture would look like. You've been employed. You obtained employment even while fighting a deadly illness. The lawyer told me it goes a long way with most custody judges when one party is married—settled down. Sounds old fashioned, but she says it matters. I have a good job, Bella. I own my own contracting firm. It's steady work, and enough to support a family even if you weren't working, which you are. You'd also be gaining a support system in my family." His lip twitched. "They're good at that—being supportive."

"Jesus," Bella said, her head spinning, She put her fingers to her temples. "You want me to marry you." She repeated the words because she didn't quite believe them, shivering with the chills that had come over her. She wanted to scream he was insane. She wanted to run away.

Part of her wanted to only listen to what she wanted to hear—that there was hope. Hope was so dangerous.

"I'm not suggesting a traditional marriage. Bella, I don't want or expect anything from you, so please don't worry about that. It's a means to an end, that's all."

She raised her head, finally looking at him. "It's marriage."

He didn't answer right away, taking a few beats to sip his drink before he spoke again. "I don't want you to think the act of marriage is meaningless to me." He took a deep breath and blew it out slowly. "I loved my wife, and I took my vow of commitment to her very seriously.

"But, I also think that marriage means different things. There's marriage of the heart. I don't believe a couple changes just because they go through a ceremony. I was as committed to my wife the day before we were married as the day after. That's the important one. There's marriage in the church—all that state of holy matrimony. Whatever marriage means according to your own religion, and then there's what we're talking about. The business of marriage."

He leaned across the table again, his hands out but not trying to touch her. "Bella, this system isn't always fair. I believe in things being fair. And when it comes down to it, I believe sometimes playing the system is the right thing to do. I know what I'm asking. I'm not doing anything with my marital status right now. I have no plans to change that in the near future. If I can give you enough pieces that you have a snowball's chance in hell to get your daughter back, I want to do it."

For a full minute, Bella gaped at him. Hope was getting louder in her head.

She muzzled it, pressing her fingertips into her skull. "You don't know me," she muttered under her breath.

"I think—"

"No." She stared him down. "You don't know me. You need to listen to me now."

He was trying to be nice; she knew that. As thrown as she was, she still didn't think this man was a danger to her. She believed what he was saying—that he wanted to do this for her, and it was sweet. So sweet it made her heart ache.

"I'm going to tell you a story, and you're going to tell me if you really want to do this for me." She clenched and unclenched her jaw. "You're going to tell me if you even want to know me or if you want to go track down Liam because you're on his side."

"That's not going to happen," Edward said.

"Yeah, well. My husband was also serious when he vowed to love and honor me. We all know how that went."

She closed her eyes. "Three and a half years ago, I went to the doctor and he told me two things. The first was that I had cancer. An aggressive cancer that they needed to treat with equal aggression." She stopped, reliving that terrible moment. She thought for one horrible second she was going to throw up. "The second was that I was pregnant."

Edward sucked in a breath, and Bella continued before he could speak. "The doctor said there were treatments I could start while pregnant, but if I wanted a fighting chance"—the words came out with a bitter twist—"he recommended terminating the pregnancy.

"So, my husband and I went home. He told me we were going to fight, but he also told me not to worry. He would take care of our kids. He would tell them every day how they had a brave mother. He would make sure that they always knew I made the ultimate sacrifice—that I'd traded my life for my baby's."

She opened her eyes. Edward was watching her, his pallor as sickly as she felt. I pressed on. "I chose my life."

His features twisted, and Bella's heart sank. It was happening all over again. "I already had a baby. I did it for her. So she wouldn't…"

And then, she was done. She was just done. She reached for her purse. "No. You know what? I'm sick of having to justify my choice, as if my life isn't valuable enough. I wanted to live. Yes, I wanted to live for McKenna. She needed a mother. She needed me. But I also had things to do. I wasn't done."

She threw a wad of bills down on the table and stood up. "If you can't deal with that, then fuck you too."

With that, she turned and rushed from the restaurant.

* * *

 **A/N: How you doing out there, sunshines?**


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: FF was acting kinda nutty the last two updates so make sure you read those chapters first.**

 **Tread lightly, my ducks.**

* * *

The inside of Edward's head got loud sometimes. It was like a buzz that made it difficult to think, difficult to do anything but reel. Bella's story had sent him into a spiral, a space where action and reaction seemed to happen in a fog.

He stared in the direction she'd disappeared for fifteen minutes before he thought about moving. Even then, when he did move, he moved slowly. He drove home in a daze—memories replaying in front of his eyes.

When he stepped in the door of his place, he stood still, gazing. It was still immaculate. He could picture the three neat envelopes in the middle of his coffee table, and his fingers itched. The room almost felt incomplete without them there. There was an echo in his head that repeated the words of his simple list, a part of him that wanted to rewrite his letter and line them up again.

Life was so messy and loud. There was comfort in the idea of control, of a tiny piece of perfection before he let life slip away into the silence.

It wasn't that he wanted to die. He just wanted peace. He just wanted relief from the endless ache of existence.

Lethargy had settled into his bones, making his limbs heavy and weak. There was a weight at the center of his shoulders, bowing his head. The thought of getting up from the couch was exhausting. Edward's eyelids, heavy and leaden as the rest of him, drooped.

With the small bit of energy he had left, Edward lay on the couch. He pulled the afghan over himself and closed his eyes.

 _ **~0~**_

The next morning, his head still buzzed. He scoffed.

It wasn't as though the feeling had ever gone away. He'd never know how to explain the feeling—the exhaustion, the fuzzy mind, the constant wringing of his heart. For the last week or so, with Bella, at least his mind had been focused. Distracted—like he could still feel everything that made him want to sleep forever, but it was further away than usual.

Getting in the shower made him feel a little better. He shook his head hard, pushing through the haze.

He thought again about Bella and what she'd told him the night before. It was so eerie—how similar their stories were. It was the remnants of her illness that had drawn him to her in the first place—the idea that here was a woman who would actually let him care for her, let him help. Let him do something. Anything.

But this latest twist. Was this a chance at redemption? A chance to right the wrong of a husband who'd vowed to love his wife unconditionally?

Wishful thinking.

Still, it would be wrong to let Bella think she was alone in this again, as she had been for far too long. It would be wrong to let her think he was just one more person who thought he had a right to be judge, jury, and executioner in the trial of her life.

He wasn't going to be another weight on her shoulders.

When he was showered and dressed, he went to pick up some comfort food: coffee and donuts. Then, he headed for her tiny apartment.

The stairs seemed to take a lot more energy that day than they had the day he helped Bella home. Some days, too many days, the most mundane things drained his energy.

He wasn't miserable, he'd told Alice. He wasn't in agony.

This is what he couldn't tell her. He was just so damn tired.

With a deep breath, Edward balanced the small box of donuts on top of the coffees. He knocked on her door. He had to admit he was more than a little surprised when she answered.

Edward proffered his gifts. "You didn't read my reaction right."

Her eyes narrowed.

"You surprised me, but not for the reason you think." He shook his offerings. "I'm sorry for not going after you. You didn't deserve to spend the night thinking anyone else agreed with your ex."

"How much ego do you have that you think I spent the night thinking of you?"

He didn't rise to her barb, knowing she had to still be defensive. "Can I explain?"

Her look softened, and she ducked her head. "I'm sorry for storming out. That was more dramatic than it needed to be." She reached out and took the coffee from his hands. "Come in."

"So, you don't think I murdered my baby to save myself?" Bella asked when they had settled on opposite ends of the couch.

Edward flinched at the brutal image the words evoked, but he shook his head. "I'm not the kind of person who automatically thinks a pregnancy is a baby."

She cocked her head, waiting for him to go on.

He took a deep breath. He'd had occasion to think this matter through very thoroughly, and he let himself slip into an academic mode as he explained. "Pregnancy is a process based on possibility, not promise. Scientifically, we miss possibilities every single day. Each ejaculation contains millions of sperm. Each and every one is different. A different set of codes. A different potential person. A woman's body prepares itself once a month. Each egg released is another potential washed away when the egg isn't fertilized. That's literally millions of people who could have been but never will be.

"And even when the two halves of the code come together, there's still no guarantee. We're fragile creatures, Bella. From our single cell forms all the way on up to adulthood." He swallowed hard around the lump in his throat, bile threatening to rise along with the single sting of rage that went through him. He shook that off. "Pregnancies, even once they begin, are still just possibilities. They end because there's something wrong in the code, because there's something wrong in the vessel, or because of nothing at all. Just chance. The whim of probability.

"People fall in love with the possibility of their child. I get that. I really do, but that doesn't make it a reality." He looked to Bella then, reading the uncertainty in her eyes, the lingering anger. He understood that anger. There was this notion that life should be fair. It wasn't. "Stopping the process yourself, for any reason, is just stopping the possibility. A possible child that never was and never will be. I don't find anything wrong with that. It can be sad—the loss of what could have been—but wrong? Reprehensible? Whatever your ex-husband might have told you?" He shook his head. "No. I can't wrap my head around that. I don't think anything is as simple as the right thing or the wrong thing. This world is too damn varied and strange for that."

"You're pro-choice," Bella said.

"Adamantly." Edward bit the inside of his cheek. That old, heavy exhaustion he never got used to settled around his shoulders, and breathing got just that much harder.

Nothing as simple as the right thing or the wrong thing. He turned the words over in his mind. It was easy to say, but hard to actually live. Especially with that voice in his head that never seemed to quiet.

 _You were wrong for doing that to me. I hate you for what you did._

He took a deep breath and came clean. "Well. I thought I was, in any case." He had to swallow hard around the painful lump that rose to his throat. "If either of us has a right to judge the other, you should be the one judging me."

Bella's brow furrowed. "For what?"

He stared up at the ceiling. "Charlotte was eight weeks along when they found the tumor."

Bella gasped.

A wave of dizziness crashed over him. He remembered well the burgeoning joy at the idea of being a father. It was still so fresh and new when Charlotte's headaches became crippling. "The doctor said she had a chance." He laughed humorlessly. "A fighting chance."

"But only if she could treat the cancer aggressively?" Bella whispered.

Edward nodded. "The doctor told her that if she kept the pregnancy, it would be a race. Which would grow faster—the baby or the tumor. There was virtually no chance of her surviving long enough to get to term. The most she could hope for was viability." Edward's throat closed around the words and the memories. His next words came out rough. "She never even thought twice."

After a long, heavy silence, Bella scooted closer, angling her body toward him. "Why would I judge you?"

He tilted his head all the way back. His eyes stung. "I was angry. I'm still angry."

He heard Bella's sharp intake of breath. "You left her?"

"No." He snapped his head to look at her. "Of course not. I was with her almost every minute of the rest of her life."

She rested her hand briefly on his knee and squeezed. "Then what makes you anything like Liam?"

Bella's hand had fallen just beside his knee. Tentatively, he reached a finger out. When she didn't move away at his touch, he traced the contours of her knuckles as a distraction while he tried to put words to his own guilt.

"She never asked me. She never asked me what I wanted. If I had any desire to be a single father. We had all these plans for our life together, and she traded them away without a thought." He had to swallow several times before he could keep speaking. "We could have had everything we wanted still. We could have had a dozen children. Babies she had a snowball's chance in hell of holding in her arms." He took a shuddering breath. "But it was her body. Her illness. Her choice."

He closed his eyes, tired again, and rested his head against the back of the sofa. "When I was a teenager and my parents gave me the sex talk, they talked about choice. They had their beliefs, and they taught me to be careful about mine. When I was a young man, I was sanguine with the idea that if there was an accident, it wouldn't be up to me. I don't have a right to another person's body at any point. That was always very clear to me.

"When I met Charlotte, it seemed like a moot point. She was down south religious. There was no way, if there was an accident, she'd do anything but keep it." He frowned. "Who would have thought I'd ever disagree with that choice?"

Bella's voice was gentle when she spoke. "So, you're comparing yourself to my jackass ex-husband, who left me to battle a deadly illness by myself and stole my daughter, because you wished you could take your wife's choice away?"

He waited a beat before he answered. "I resented her for what she'd done to us. I tried not to show it, and if she saw it, she didn't say. I tried not to be so angry. While she was still in her right mind—because toward the end, the tumor pushing into her brain made her erratic and irrational—she talked about all the things she wanted me to do with our baby. And I said the things you say to a dying woman. I just nodded and agreed and promised."

A tear fell from the very corner of either eye, and Edward didn't bother to wipe them away. He said this next part out loud for the first time, his heart twisting and yet curiously empty all at once. "Our son survived forty-seven minutes—none of which his mother was there for. He never had a chance. They let me hold him, and he fit in the palm of my hand."

He took a shuddering breath. "I felt nothing, Bella. Nothing good or warm. I just thought, forty-seven minutes. That's what your mother bought you. Forty-seven minutes and we got to put _Beloved Mother_ on her tombstone."

There, finally, was the truth. Some days, he thought he hated Charlotte for what she'd done to them. For his son, he felt nothing but resentment. The tiny, helpless being had been the nail in his mother's coffin, and Edward had no idea how to cope with that.

"I'd loved the idea of him." Edward scoffed. "I loved him when he was a twinkle in my eye. But not what I actually held in my hand."

A long silence stretched between them. Two more tears fell from the corners of Edward's eyes. His hand now rested on top of Bella's, and she hadn't pulled away from him.

"I never blamed Liam for being angry at me."

Edward looked at her.

"I knew what he believed. To him, from the time you get the two blue lines on the stick, a pregnancy is a baby. And I knew he believed a baby's right to life came before a woman's right to her own body. Children come first, and as far as he was concerned, no mother would have thought twice about that." Bella rolled her shoulders, her eyes closed. "So it's not like I could be surprised that he was angry.

"The part I never understood was how hard he worked to hurt me. Divorce me? Fine. I get that he thought he didn't have to hold up his half of the bargain—in sickness and health—because I was an immoral person, a mother who sacrificed her own child so she could live. But what he did? Stealing my daughter. What he's doing, keeping her away from me—that's what makes him an asshole."

She scooted closer to him again, resting her hand on his upper thigh and looking into his eyes. "You're not an asshole for having feelings that are hard to deal with. Life teaches us that pretty early, doesn't it? It's easy to have ideals. It's easy to see things in black and white until you start living your life. That's why teenagers think they know everything. It's easy to say when you have no experience. Actually living is complicated—full color."

To his surprise, she cupped his cheek, stroking with her thumb with an unfathomable tenderness. "You did a brave thing," she said quietly. "You gave a dying woman her final wish even though it was the last thing you wanted. You stood by your ideals—it wasn't your choice. And you have a right to be angry the same as Liam did. You were supposed to be partners. She left you, Edward." She swallowed audibly. "And I, as far as he's concerned, I killed my husband's child. These aren't easy things to deal with. You did right by Charlotte. That matters. Maybe it's not the only thing that matters, but it's not nothing."

Edward stared at her, unable to speak. His heart thudded in his chest. Absolution?

No. It couldn't be right.

Bella's hand slipped from his cheek. "Did he have a name?"

"What?" Edward asked, voice raw.

"Your son. Did you name him?"

"Charlotte did." He paused a beat. "Ezra." Another word he'd never said out loud.

Bella nodded. "I like that." She tilted her head, looking at him with compassion and tenderness. "If he'd survived, you wouldn't have resented him forever. You'd have been a good father to him."

Edward was, again, stunned by her words. "What makes you say that?"

She laughed and smiled. "Edward, if you could give a damn about me, a near stranger, to the point that you'd offer to marry me to give me a fraction of a chance to get my daughter back, you really think you wouldn't have loved your own son?" She shook her head. "You knew he didn't really have a chance. You never got attached to the idea of him. Especially when you were losing your wife who, presumably, you were attached to."

Not quite sure what to think about anything she was saying, Edward pushed it all to the back of his mind to be sorted and dealt with later. "Well. We've established I don't think you're horrible for wanting to survive. And you don't think I'm horrible for wanting my wife to survive." He gave a small shrug. "It's a better reason than some to get married, don't you think."

She sucked in a breath but then burst out laughing again. She ducked her head, covering her face with her hands. "Oh, man. You're still serious about that?"

"I want to try. Yes."

Bella raised her head. She didn't look at him but worried her lip between her teeth. After several long, quiet minutes, she finally met his eyes. "Okay. Tell me details."

* * *

 **A/N: How we doin', dears?**


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N: Hello, my ducks! The weekend is almost here.**

* * *

Bella stepped out of the shower. She reached for her towel but stopped short, catching a glimpse of herself between the streaks of steam on the mirror. She stepped forward slowly, and when she was in arm's reach, she wiped the mirror clean.

When was the last time she'd looked at herself? She ran her fingertips down her sides, tilting her head this way and that. She touched the scar where her port had been, remembering the frail, hairless, skeletal figure that had stared back at her not so long ago.

She ran her hands over her hair—still hardly more than peach fuzz. Her body was smooth and feminine again. Yet there was a disconnect in her somewhere, like she still couldn't bring herself to believe the woman in the mirror was her.

Before her illness, she'd adored her body. What a marvel it was, that it could create a life, shelter it, nourish it, and bear it. How could she not love the body that had been her precious daughter's first home?

But then, it had welcomed a much more malicious passenger. Was it a survival mechanism that had made her stop thinking of this body as hers? She'd lost her physical beauty when she was so sick, all the shallow things women treasured—her beautiful brown hair that, once upon a time, had tumbled down almost to her waist, her long eyelashes, her shapely legs-for-days figure. Fighting for her life, she didn't have the energy to spend on vanity.

Or was it pure anger? On her worst days, she hated her body with an incredible fervor. It had betrayed her, had left her crumpled on the floor. Her body had succumbed to illness, had wasted and broken.

Bella shivered, and reached out to pull the towel off the rack and wrapped it around herself.

It had been a long time since she'd thought of looking good. Did she even still own makeup? Just a little. A little blush maybe. Her eyelashes were a little patchy. She could do with some mascara.

She rolled her eyes at herself, but she couldn't suppress the need to impress Edward's family. It was crazy, this thing he was doing for her. She could at least try for a good impression.

Not that anyone would believe she was a trophy wife, and that wasn't the plan anyway. Edward had said he was going to tell his brother and sister up front. As pushy as his brother had been some nights before, Bella could understand his reasoning. They wouldn't believe a wife who appeared out of nowhere, but he seemed to think they'd be on board for his plan.

Well, she still had a few tricks up her sleeve.

 _ **~0~**_

Edward was surreptitiously staring at her.

It took Bella ages to figure out what was happening. As he drove, Edward kept taking little glances at her. Bella flushed when she recognized the behavior. She couldn't even remember the last time a man had noticed her. Mostly, she was at work or she was at home. The cemetery wasn't a great place to pick up a date.

Though, Bella supposed she had managed to snag a husband.

She ran her hands up and down her knee, suddenly nervous all over again. She didn't miss that Edward's eyes lingered on her legs, peeking out from beneath the flowy dress she wore. She crossed her legs, just checking, and thought she saw his cheeks go pink.

A rush of pleasure went through her. Not the erotic variety, but the simple, smug feeling one got when she turned the head of a man she liked.

Edward cleared his throat. "You didn't need to dress up for my family," he blurted. "I mean…" He shook his head. "I mean you don't have to be nervous about them. Impressing them. Not that you aren't…" He took a deep breath, huffing out a laugh at himself. "You always look good, Bella."

"Ha. Liar."

"Well, a bout of pneumonia doesn't look good on anyone," he admitted. "What I'm trying to say is that you don't have to worry. They're going to see you the same way I do."

Bella tilted her head, watching the profile of his face as he drove. The air in the car seemed to have gone thick. Alive. "How do you see me?" she asked.

He pulled to a stop, and Bella couldn't have said where they were. When he turned to look at her, his green eyes held hers. Her breath caught. There was an intensity there she hadn't seen before. For the first time, they weren't dull, and when he smiled a gentle smile, her heart pounded. "You're alive. I don't know how else to put it. It's not just that you survived cancer. It's that you survived everything else. You've fought every battle alone, and it never even occurred to you to stop fighting." His smile turned wry, and he ducked his head. "Not everybody could do it. Trust me on that one."

Bella furrowed her brow, blinking sporadically. That had been an intense moment, and she wasn't at all sure she understood it. "There's no other choice, is there?"

Edward glanced at her again, a question in his eyes.

"Surviving. Fighting. There's no other option."

His lips quirked and he looked straight ahead. "No, I guess not."

Confused, Bella looked away from him, finally glancing out the window. She balked. "You have a legitimate house," she said, unsure why she was so surprised. Of course he had a house—a small, cute one.

Edward shrugged. "Charlotte's parents' wedding gift, so don't be too impressed."

Bella got out of the car and looked at him over the top. "It's still a beautiful home."

He glanced at it, tilting his head as though he hadn't considered it before. "I can't complain," he said simply, coming to stand beside her. "Come on." He nodded his head in the direction of the front door.

When they got there, Bella stopped short. Edward squeezed her arm. "Really, you have nothing to worry about," he said.

"I'll admit that I have no siblings of my own, but I thought the idea was that they're supposed to have your back."

"What do you think they're doing here? I asked them to help us, and here they are."

A thrill went down Bella's spine. Us. She cleared her throat. "Maybe I don't know anything about siblings, but they should be a little suspicious of me and this plan that's going to cost you a lot of money."

"It's not so much money, and it was also my idea."

"Yeah, but how do they know that? How do they know I'm not one of those charming assholes? Abusive, manipulative assholes are always charming. Maybe they think you were just snowed by me."

He looked bemused, but before he could answer, the door swung open. Bella stumbled backward a step. The man who had appeared filled the doorway, and with his face pulled in a tight scowl, Bella couldn't help but be intimidated. "What the hell are you guys doing out here?"

Bella took another step backward, but then, the man broke out in a broad grin. The dimples would have seemed incongruous just a second before, but now that he was the picture of mirth, they were adorable. The man gave Edward's back a healthy thwack as he looked at Bella. "I'm going to starve to death. Get inside. Alice won't let me eat anything until you're here."

Edward made an exasperated sound. "Also, you're Emmett and you're pleased to meet Bella."

Emmett's grin only widened. He offered Bella a hand which she, still somewhat shell-shocked, took. He shook her hand vigorously. "Nice to meet you."

She gave a little laugh. "Same."

As soon as they stepped in the door, Bella saw a flash of jet-black hair before a slight woman threw her arms around her. "Bella. I'm Alice."

Bella patted the Alice's back, surprised again. The woman didn't let her go right away but lingered, giving her another squeeze before she pulled back. "I'm so, so glad you're here. I'm glad my brother met you."

"Take it down a notch," Edward said, and Bella thought she saw something like irritation in his eyes. "Give her some room."

Alice frowned at her brother and wrapped her arm around Bella's. "Come on. Help me get the sandwiches out so we can eat."

"Alice," Edward said, his tone a warning.

"Oh, calm down," Alice called over her shoulder, pulling Bella through the house. She shook her head. "He thinks I'm going to tell you family secrets."

"Um." Bella wasn't sure what to say to that. This whole family was bizarre. But friendly. Very friendly.

Alice kept up a pleasant chatter as she retrieved a sandwich ring from the fridge. Bella felt like she was two or three steps behind. This woman was chatting like they were already familiar with each other while Bella didn't know where to start. She wanted to take some time to acclimate to her surroundings.

There was something off about the house, tidy and pristine as it was. Bella couldn't shake the idea something was missing.

Alice put a pitcher of iced tea in Bella's hands and shooed her toward the dining room table where Edward already sat with his brother. Obviously, it had been Emmett's job to provide the side dish. He was pulling several large bags of chips from a grocery bag.

"We have to have variety," he said to Bella, catching her looking at the diverse array. He looked to Alice. "Did you bring the dip out?"

"How many hands do you think I have?"

Emmett was already up and halfway to the kitchen by the time she was done talking.

Bella tilted her head toward Edward. "Okay, but why are they so happy to see me?" she said, still trying to catch up.

She thought she saw Edward grimace, but he shrugged. "Emmett and Alice have the annoying quality of being perky most of the time. If you don't want to punch them in their chippery faces yet, you will."

"Such violence," Alice admonished, close enough to catch that last part now. "Emmett's a pain in the ass, though."

"Why would you lie like that?" Emmett asked, ruffling his sister's hair.

Bella couldn't help but smile. So Edward came from a family of good people, it seemed. She was mystified by their ease but not uncomfortable around them.

"Okay, let's get down to brass tacks," Alice said, whipping out a pad of paper and a pen. "First thing's first is this whole wedding thing. I don't think it would hurt to dress it up just a little. A tiny ceremony right here, or at Mom and Dad's house."

Bella stared. "Wait, so...that's it? You're just on board with this whole thing? No questions? No concerns?"

Alice patted her hand. "Don't look so surprised. This is a good cause, and it's not that big of a deal on our part. Not like you're asking us to break any laws."

"We're not." Bella furrowed her brow and looked at Emmett. "Right?"

He grinned at her. "It's not illegal for two consenting adults to get married for any reason, immigration law notwithstanding, and even that is more of an access denied situation rather than accusing someone of a crime. Despite the bellyaching of some, legal marriage is far from sacred or profound. I don't see this as any different than the people who get married so they can help a friend get affordable healthcare."

Emmett leaned forward, sandwich momentarily forgotten as he slipped into a more serious expression. "Even with criminal law, getting things to swing in your favor has a lot to do with presentation. My job is to cast a shadow of doubt on the guilt of a defendant. If there's a shadow of doubt, a jury or a judge isn't supposed to deliver a guilty verdict. In this case, you're trying to cast a shadow of a doubt that remaining with your dickhead ex is in your daughter's best interest. Your freedom isn't at stake, but a lot of the mechanisms are the same."

"In other words, it's like Emmett's clients. You know you're not guilty, and we all know it." Alice gestured around at all of them. "It's just a matter of making a total stranger believe it. Almost anything is justified, because a not guilty verdict is the only thing that could be called justice. I mean...as long as we're not kidnapping the kid or something like that, we're doing the right thing."

Again, Bella didn't know what to say. Her eyes stung, and she ducked her head, determined not to cry. "Thank you," she said, her voice thick.

Alice patted her arm again. "It's okay. It can be a little fun, even. At least this part." She tapped her pad. "Like I was saying. I think a tiny wedding would be appropriate. We're talking practically zero expense. We could even do it this weekend. Just us. Bella, if you wanted to invite anyone, you could, of course. Emmett can officiate. It doesn't have to be a big deal, but I think it would set the mood for Mom and Dad."

"So, you don't think we should be honest with your parents?"

"It's not what you're thinking," Edward said. "Mom and Dad would be completely supportive of what we're trying to do here."

"They're just not good actors. It would be better if it was real for them," Emmett said. "Don't worry about hurting them; you won't. They're romantics, so they'll roll pretty easily with the idea you two, with your pasts, found each other and got married so quickly. And, at the end of the day, they're also pragmatists. It won't be a shock when you break up. It won't be an acrimonious divorce, so it won't be too much of a disappointment. You and Edward will remain friends, I assume, so no heartbreak for anyone.

"I dated a woman before I married my wife, Rosalie. She had a kid. Cute little boy. He and my mom had a special bond, and after we broke up, my ex kept my mom in her kid's life. She goes to his piano recitals." Emmett waved a hand. "See, so we're not even lying about the support system."

Bella pressed the back of her hand over her mouth, overwhelmed all over again. She nodded, trying to swallow down the lump in her throat. "Okay." She took a deep breath. "So, a little wedding?" Her head spun at the idea, but Alice's suggestion didn't sound like that big of a deal.

"Tiny," Alice said. "Intimate." She hesitated. "Plus, I think it's a good idea to create at least a little bit of atmosphere. It's not unreasonable to think your ex-husband or his lawyer will do some digging. You and Edward are private people, but you still have Facebook. And the rest of Edward's family are noticeably not as private as he is."

"She's saying it would be suspicious if she didn't have photographic evidence of my life splashed across her social media," Edward said, his tone somewhat flat.

Bella imagined he was thinking of the last time he'd had something good to share.

"You're my brother, and I love you," Alice said, unapologetic. She looked to Bella. "And I'd be proud to call you my sister-in-law."

"She's not wrong," Emmett said. "Remember. It's all about presentation. It's going to be your ex-husband's lawyer's job to poke holes in your story about the life you can provide for McKenna. It's like I said—not like immigration law where someone might show up and inspect your home for evidence you're really living together. You should be able to be in the guest room without anyone being the wiser, but having some background doesn't hurt."

"It'll be relatively painless. Nothing grand," Alice promised.

Edward looked to Bella. "It's up to you, of course. What they're suggesting isn't so different from going to the courthouse." His lip twitched. "Plus, if nothing else, Emmett as an officiant would be a lot more entertaining."

Bella did smile at that.

"You can think of it as a celebration not of the union of two people, but of friendship. A different kind of family," Alice said.

"That's a beautiful sentiment." This time, Bella reached across and impulsively squeezed Alice's fingers.

They talked at length, going over details and fine-tuning an official story that was close to the truth. Edward and Bella had, theoretically, known each other for nearly two years. They would tell the story that over the course of those two years, they chatted off and on, coming to enjoy each other's company. They were both serious people with serious pasts, a shared experience that gave them a deeper understanding of each other than most strangers enjoyed. Then, one day, something just clicked and that was that.

It was more true than it wasn't. That there was no sex or love involved was no one's business.

Bella agreed that she'd have to move in with Edward. The idea made her nervous. At the very least, it would make getting out from under the situation complicated and costly should things with this stranger go awry. Just because he'd been so kind didn't mean Bella trusted with a hundred percent certainty that this was all real. The world was a strange and complicated place. The number of ways human beings found to screw with each other were infinite.

But as she'd told herself so many times, a mother would do almost anything for her child. This was her anything. It was a risk, yes, but if it gave her a chance to have her daughter back in her arms, how could she hesitate?

Her life was about to change drastically. There was every chance it could be a disaster but she'd been there before. She'd survived then, and she would survive now. That was all there was to it.

As afternoon turned to evening, Bella said her goodbyes. She hugged both Emmett and Alice, trying not to dwell on the possibility she'd found people she might want to keep. They'd all exchanged numbers and friended each other across their social media platforms.

When they left Emmett and Alice inside, still squabbling over some finer details, Edward paused on the front stoop. He had a strange look in his eyes, and a heartbeat later, he offered her his hand.

Bella's heart picked up an erratic beat. She was confused at first, until she remembered something else Emmett had said. He'd given them a lot of lawerly advice, stressing how far perception went.

" _Rationally, we all know different people have different reactions to trauma—and trials are a trauma_ ," he'd said. " _But that doesn't change what people expect to see. I tell my clients they can't look cocky or bored. They can't look mean. They have to look uncertain and scared, maybe even a little contrite, depending on the circumstance. Doesn't matter how you want to act—what matters is how you're perceived_."

To that end, he'd said, in the blunt way he had, that they should be warm toward each other. " _Not like you have to make out in front of the judge, but little things. You want to look like a solid unit—two people used to touching each other, being in each other's personal space. Just familiar with each other._ "

But despite that Bella reminded herself that this was just part of the act, it didn't feel that way. As she slipped her hand in his, energy surged through her. The moment felt alive, and there was a strange, giddy sensation building in her gut.

As they walked, hand in hand, to his car, Bella chastised herself. She had stars in her eyes. It was only to be expected. This man was doing an incredible thing for her. Of course she had feelings for him, but she knew better than to trust those.

No. She would have to be careful about her own perception. There was nothing to be read in the way he seemed to linger, holding her hand for a few beats longer than necessary before he let her go. Their eyes met, and Bella's breath caught, but she told herself firmly that she was imagining the poignance of the moment.

This whole situation was bewildering; that was all. It had been a day of overwhelming emotions, and holding hands was an innately intimate gesture.

There was nothing else going on here.

* * *

 **A/N: Looks like this is going to happen! Buckle up.**


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N: A short little interlude. I promise to give this fic priority so you get a nice, meaty chapter sooner than later. But, I think you might enjoy this one.**

* * *

Neither Edward nor Bella had been in a position to socialize in years. They were painfully rusty. Edward couldn't speak for Bella, but the fact she'd be his wife in a short week and a half was tripping him out. It had been his idea, and he was still sure it was the right thing to do, but that didn't make it less weird. The point of that evening had been to just hang out, be friends, since they hadn't really had a chance to do that yet. Everything was painfully awkward.

Then, Bella had said the magic words. "You know what this situation calls for? Alcohol."

An hour later they were much more relaxed, both sitting on the floor with their backs against the couch, heads tilted toward each other as they engaged in a two person game of Never Have I Ever.

Edward couldn't remember the last time he'd been this relaxed.

"Let's see," Bella said, pouring a liberal amount of soda into her glass. Truth be told, both their drinks were watered down. It had been a long time since Edward drank, and Bella's system was unpredictable. Still, they were both a little past tipsy. "Never have I ever...kissed someone of the same sex."

Edward felt his cheeks grow hot as he raised his glass to his lips. It took him a few extra seconds before he let his eyes meet Bella's, and then he almost choked on his drink. He laughed and coughed at the same time, chuckling at the bug-eyed expression on her face. "What? It was college. It was a dare." He wiped a hand across his mouth, hiding his smile. "Are you so shocked and horrified at the idea of a guy kissing another guy?"

"What? No. It's not that. It's just that you're so serious."

Edward hummed, thinking that she looked so pretty, grinning at him the way she was. "I was nineteen. No one's serious when they're nineteen." Their faces were close together. He sighed. "And I wasn't always...like this."

Her grin faded, and she looked at him more seriously. She took a long drink, propping her elbow on the couch and her head on her palm. "That always happens to goofy nineteen-year-olds."

"What's that?"

"Life."

They both laughed. "That's deep," Edward said.

"What the hell did those kids know?" Bella polished off her drink. "Did you know who you wanted to be when you were nineteen?"

Edward snorted. "Hell no. And I never did figure it out." He leaned forward, setting his now empty glass on the coffee table. "I ended up doing what my mother thought I should." He tilted his head, looking at her over his shoulder. "Don't get me wrong. I didn't do it to please my mother, though it did. I like what I do. I'm a landscape architect. I'm not sure if I ever told you."

"You said you owned a contracting firm."

He chuffed. "Yes. That's the kind of work we do. Turned out my mother was right. It's good money. Easy to get a job. Easy to do well. And I was already good at it. My mother stages houses and businesses for a living—houses to sell and businesses to...well...sell whatever they're selling. It was easy for her to take me to work with her, and she saw that I had a knack for outdoor layout."

"It's not such a bad thing to listen to your mother." Bella looked wistful. "My mother told me to make sure I never depend on anyone else for my financial success. To make sure I could always stand on my own feet. I wish I'd listened to that."

"What do you mean?" Edward sat back against the couch, his head turned toward hers.

Bella was quiet a handful of beats before she spoke again. "I didn't really have a concrete plan either when I was in college. By the time I had to declare a major, I was already planning my life with Liam. We were supposed to be partners. That was the idea.

"He was already interning at the right company—he's a few years older than I am. They were going to offer him a job. It made sense that he could support us both while I built up my business." She laughed bitterly. "So, I got a practically useless degree in Visual and Performing Arts with an emphasis in photography. I wanted to do event planning and photography."

"Requires time, effort, and word of mouth," Edward surmised.

"Exactly." She rolled her eyes. "Which I had to start all over when we moved here. Then, even when we divorced, he was my saving grace. Or, I guess California's divorce law was. Half the assets and half the debts. We were pretty good with money, so not much in the way of debts. I had enough to secure my little postage stamp of an apartment. Pay a couple months while I tried to get well enough to get a job—any job that would have me. I've been a half step away from poverty since then—borrowing money from my mother a few times a year when I just can't make ends meet."

It struck him then just how terrifying this whole situation must be to her. To put her trust in a man again after she'd been leveled? Liam had at least intended to love her. Edward could make no such claim.

He would die before he hurt her, but she had no way of knowing that. Accepting his help on blind faith put her at risk of losing the tiny scrap of the world she'd carved out for herself.

He rolled a bit, angling his body more toward hers. Before he could think about what he was doing, he reached out, dragging the back of a single knuckle down her cheek. She flinched, but she didn't pull away. Her eyes met his, and a jolt went down his spine.

"You're very brave, you know." He swallowed thickly as he let his hand drop back to his lap.

"Am I?" There was a raw quality to her voice that made every nerve under his skin tickle.

"Incredibly."

She sighed, her breath warm and sweet. "I'm just surviving, and not very well. Any fool can survive."

He scoffed. "Not any fool." He lifted a hand again, tracing a finger through her short hair, following her hairline. "My partner left me too, but she didn't take everything we built together. My brother-in-law owns half my business. It's his father's money that let us get set up. My in-laws are the reason I have this house. My family are all warm, supportive people."

"You have a life," Bella said with a small smile.

"Do I?" Edward shook his head. "What I'm saying is that not a lot of people stand on their own two feet. Even if I hadn't had Charlotte, my parents paid for college, and most of my expenses while I was figuring out how to manage life. My brother lived with my parents for years while he got his law degree. We're all dependent on someone.

"Maybe to you it seems like your life is a mess, but the fact you're putting it back together by yourself?" He chucked the underside of her chin gently. "That's incredible and rare. Not everyone could do it."

Or maybe he was just talking about himself.

"I don't want you to think my mother doesn't care," Bella said. "If I was ever homeless, she'd take me in."

"She just doesn't sound good at the supportive stuff."

"She really isn't."

Bella shivered. She ducked her head as she chafed her arms, breaking the intense moment between them. "Are you cold?" Edward asked.

"A little."

He could have pulled the afghan from the back of the sofa. He could have gone to get her a jacket. He could have suggested it was time to show her to the guest room—it probably wasn't a good idea for either of them to drive.

Instead, he shifted again and put an arm around her. Bella stiffened—she almost always did when he touched her—but relaxed after only a moment. She scooted closer to him, resting a hand on his knee.

"I didn't mean to bring down the mood," Bella said after a few moment's silence. "I just wish I could tell nineteen-year-old me a thing or two."

"It would be nice if we knew how things were going to turn out when we make decisions." Edward wondered if it would have changed anything. If he'd had a crystal ball, and could show Charlotte that there was no way their son could make it even as far as the NICU, would she have changed her mind?

"But some of the best things are accidental, aren't they?" Bella's voice was getting reedy. She rested her head on his shoulder. "Mac was an accident."

"My mother always says life wouldn't be so beautiful if bad choices didn't exist. Though, for the record, I don't think expecting your husband to be your partner in life was a bad choice. Sometimes life just hands us—."

"Deadly diseases and horrible choices?" Bella suggested.

"I was going to say lemons, but that's a little more honest." He stroked his fingers up and down her arm. "None of what happened to you was your fault, Bella."

She hummed as though she wasn't all together convinced, but she didn't argue. A few minutes later, her breaths evened out.

Edward closed his eyes, resting his head against hers. The old, familiar ache still seized his heart and lungs in a vice grip. He always felt like he could barely breathe, but tonight...tonight, that was okay.

His ass was asleep. His leg was sore from being in one position too long. But Bella's warmth pressed up against him and her steady breaths brought him a strange sense of peace and comfort.

It had been a long, long time since he hadn't fallen asleep in this house alone.

* * *

 **A/N: My people are tireless and wonderful. And you? You reading this? You are also wonderful.**


	10. Chapter 10

**A/N: Anyone want to go to a wedding?!**

* * *

Bella had long ago come to the conclusion she had to tell her mother she was getting married.

Legal custody battles were strange things. There was no telling what Liam's lawyer would pull, or what he would claim was damning. The mantle of better parent was such an arbitrary thing. It terrified Bella to think that it would be up to a stranger to decide what was best for her child.

Then again, there was something comforting knowing that Liam wouldn't have any more control than she did. It was all about factors, as Emmett had said—marks in the good or bad column for each of them.

Bella wasn't about to let her mother become a bad mark. Renee was a kindergarten teacher by trade. She'd always been employed, had done her taxes, and kept her nose clean all her life. She'd been married for a decade. On paper, this wasn't a mother Bella should be estranged from.

And really, it wasn't that she was estranged from her mother. There was no real animosity between them and never had been. In a fit of temper, bereft at the loss of her daughter, Bella had simply banished her mother from her presence, not her life. Renee had always taken some patience, flighty and innocently irresponsible as she was. Bella had run out of patience; that was all.

"I met a guy," Bella said into the phone in a rush after she'd let Renee prattle about the latest adventure she and her husband, Phil, had been on. That was one of the draws with Phil. He traveled a lot for work, and work didn't mind if his wife tagged along. If Renee could have afforded it, Bella knew she would have helped her see her daughter ages ago.

Renee laughed, obviously startled. "That's great, baby. Tell me all about him."

As planned, Bella told mostly the truth. They'd gotten to know each other for years over small conversations every week. "You talked to him, remember? He was the one who got me to the hospital when I got sick."

"The one with the voice," Renee said gleefully. "He literally swept you off your feet. How romantic. He sounded handsome."

Bella rolled her eyes but smiled. "How does handsome sound?"

"That's not important. What's important is if he's handsome in person or not."

"Sure. Not if he's nice; not his ambitions, his interests or his criminal record. His handsomeness is what's important."

Renee chuckled. "I think I know you better than that. I'm sure he's very interesting and smart. It's just nice to have a picture in my head. Do you have one? You know, on your phone?"

"I don't have a smartphone." There was the sound of clicking on the other end. "Mom, what are you doing?"

"Looking him up on Facebook, of course. You're friends on Facebook, right?"

Bella sat back, resigned as her mother sleuthed. She counted off on her fingers to seven before Renee whistled. Even though he wasn't really hers and it was far from the most important thing, Bella smirked. There was no getting around the fact Edward Cullen was an unfairly attractive man.

"Wow. Okay, so now that we got that settled, tell me about _him._ All the really important stuff," Renee said.

"He's…" To Bella's surprise, a million thoughts sprang to mind, none of them she knew how to articulate.

How was she supposed to explain the depth of his kindness? She thought many, maybe even most, people would have made sure she got help when she collapsed. But he'd stayed. Bella had battled cancer alone. She'd woken in hospitals alone, faced diagnosis and tests and chemo alone. Had dragged her sorry carcass up three flights of stairs more often than she could count, fed herself whatever she could manage, and tucked herself into bed. The enormity of what it meant to have him by her side, helping her up the steps and cooking a week's worth of food—she couldn't explain what it had done to her soul.

How could she talk about how his presence, his existence in the same space as her, changed the temperature of the room? He was warmth and comfort—a sense of peace Bella had been without for long years.

There were stories in his sad, dull eyes she couldn't begin to fathom. Sometimes just looking at him made her ache, and she couldn't quite put her finger on why. But it made those rare times he smiled—and he did smile at her, with her—all the more beautiful.

"He's good," Bella said finally. It wasn't enough by a long shot, but it was also true. She took a deep breath and closed her eyes. "I'm going to marry him."

Long beats of silence ticked by before her mother spoke in a soft voice. "Bella, are you sure?"

Bella had to press her tongue to the roof of her mouth to keep back her maniacal laughter at her mother's gentle question. She almost told Renee the truth. This kind of crazy plan would be right up her mother's alley, but therein was the problem. Bella didn't want her mother's gung-ho adventurousness right now. She was desperately unsure about what she was doing, and she needed to hear the note of caution in her mother's voice.

Again, she went over every facet of their plan, trying to find all the ways Edward could screw her over, if that was what he intended to do. The apartment was the biggest factor. It wasn't easy to find a place to live if he kicked her suddenly the curb. But besides that, she had no money to her name. No assets.

Well.

It had occurred to her—as a woman in a vulnerable position it _had_ to occur to her—that Edward could be full of shit when he said he didn't expect anything from her. To sleep in the room next to his, in his home, left her vulnerable. This man would have power over her.

But, she also believed what she'd just told her mother to the depths of her soul. Edward was good and kind. She wasn't naive. Edward could be any one of a million bad things, but she had to trust.

"Is there any such thing as sure?" Bella said to answer her mother's question. "I'm terrified, but aren't you the one who always told me just because something is scary doesn't mean you shouldn't do it?"

"I was talking about skydiving, Bella." Renee made a disgruntled noise. "This is your life to live, baby. I'm not trying to say you're wrong. What would I know? I'm just confused. Why jump straight to marriage?"

Bella's lip twitched. She'd asked a similar question when Bella announced she was marrying Liam. Why jump to marriage? Then, still reeling from the death of her father a few years earlier, she'd craved the idea of permanence and stability—the desire for another person in her life she could count on without question.

But life had proven there was no such thing as permanence. Liam, after all, hadn't set out with the intention of hurting her. As far as he was concerned, she betrayed him first, murdering their child without a second thought. Neither one of them could have predicted the depth of the pain they'd cause each other.

"Being on my own hasn't done me any favors," Bella said wryly. "I know why you're concerned. I wish I was financially stable, that I could say I wouldn't be dependent on Edward in any way. That's not a reality for me at the moment."

"But it could be. Bella—"

"He wants to try to help me get McKenna back, Mom," Bella said quietly.

Renee was quiet at that, and Bella sighed. "I think this could be a good thing." She hated how her voice shook.

"Okay, honey. Enough with the heavy. You're due for something good. It sounds like he is too." Her tone perked up considerably. "It's a terribly romantic story."

Bella rolled her eyes fondly. Sometimes, she thought it would be nice to live in her mother's world of fantasy and romance. It was a nice daydream—to think this might be the beginning of the beautiful life she'd promised herself she'd have to spite fate and her ex-husband if nothing else.

Sometimes, she found herself wondering what it would be like to kiss Edward Cullen.

But this was reality. The chance to get her daughter back was more of a miracle than she ever could have expected or hoped for. She had to keep her feet on the ground and her wits sharp.

 _ **~0~**_

The whole week had already been next-level crazy.

But good. Really, really good in a way Bella couldn't quite wrap her head around. For the last two and a half years, she'd had so little in the way of social interaction. Doctors. Nurses. Jessica, sure. Now, on the day of her fake-wedding, she was surrounded by family—people who might not have loved her but genuinely cared for her.

By far the scariest of the Cullen clan was Rosalie Cullen, Emmett's intimidating wife. She was just as tall as he was and had a bite that far exceeded her bark, as though she was making up for her husband's deceiving softness.

Rosalie had made it clear that she thought Bella had made the wrong choice. The baby, after all, had in all likelihood not been sick. Theoretically speaking, it's chance of survival was much better than Bella's. For her, like for Charlotte, the decision would have been a no-brainer. She couldn't terminate a pregnancy.

Alice had whispered to Bella later that Rosalie's own pregnancies were hard won. Not only did she have trouble getting pregnant, but she had trouble staying that way. She and Emmett had two children. Rosalie had been pregnant eight times.

On the flip side of that, Rosalie also couldn't get behind Liam's decision to kidnap Bella's daughter. She was with them all the way in their plan and hoped Liam would step out of line so she'd get a chance to knee him in the balls.

Jasper Whitlock, Alice's husband, was a quiet, peaceful presence. He reminded Bella a little of Edward. His scars were visible—littering his face and arms—but like Edward, the story of how he got them was held captive in his eyes. He also seemed to understand how Bella felt without her having to say it out loud. They were both outsiders brought into the fold, though not unwelcome.

"It's safety," Jasper observed when he was alone with her one day. "The Cullens, I mean. They're a port in the storm."

Carlisle, Edward's father, made Bella ache for her own father. He was paternal, a parent in the way Renee, as loving and well-meaning as she was, never had been. Carlisle exuded quiet strength and told bad dad jokes. He was affectionate with all his children—the first to hug his son when Edward announced they were getting married—and clearly proud of them.

And cautious. Both he and Esme, Edward's mother, watched Edward with pinched concern in their eyes. Natural, Bella told herself. Like her own mother, they had to have questions about she and Edward marrying so suddenly. But whatever reservations they might have had, they took their son at his word this was a good thing.

After a whirlwind week, Bella woke up in the guest room of her almost-in-laws house. There was a dress hanging on the back of the closet door. A dress she, by some strange miracle, really liked. It was deep blue, swishy, and just frilly enough to look slightly fancy. More surprisingly, she'd enjoyed shopping for it. The process had involved several glasses of wine, Alice's obnoxiously large laptop, and a contest to find the weirdest dress on Amazon. An hour and a lot of cackling later, she was the owner of a dress she loved and a pair of strappy blue shoes for under $55 dollars.

She showered, and emerged in the comfy, ridiculously fluffy robe she'd been gifted at the impromptu bachelorette party Alice, Esme, and, surprisingly, Rosalie had dragged her out on. The three of them were waiting for her with a decadent breakfast of fruit, pastries, and coffee. Rosalie took up residence at the windowseat, doing her own nails while Alice did Bella's. Esme set about turning Bella's short hair into soft waves with her curling iron.

The women were happy as they worked, chattering and cackling about the stumbling blocks they faced at their own weddings.

"My mother, the damn drama queen, wore a white wedding dress on my wedding day," Rosalie said, rolling her eyes to the ceiling and shaking her head. "With a beaded white headband! Thank God for you, Esme. I was five seconds away from being arrested for murdering my own mother."

Alice grinned wickedly at Bella. "Mom _accidentally_ tripped and spilled red wine all over Ms. Hale."

Behind Bella, Esme chuckled. "I don't know what you're talking about. I can just get a little clumsy now and again."

Bella sniffed. "My ex-mother-in-law would have worn black to the wedding if we'd had one."

There was silence for two beats, and Bella realized she'd hardly said a word all morning. Her throat went tight. She'd been trying not to act weird, but this whole experience was surreal. She had the sensation of being out of her body all week, as though she were watching herself. She couldn't quite convince herself that this was her life, all of this was really happening. She was really marrying a kind stranger whose family treated her with respect. More than simple respect, they lavished attention and affection on her. She loved it and it hurt, and she hadn't quite figured out what to do about all of it.

 _Lean in_ , a voice in her head urged, but she couldn't yet.

Esme caressed her hair in a quick, maternal gesture. She cleared her throat and spoke quietly, getting back to the task at hand. "She didn't approve?"

That was an understatement. "No one in his family reacted well to news we were engaged. Liam and I were already fighting about what we wanted in a wedding. He was, of course, very traditional, and I don't like the symbolism behind most wedding traditions." She scoffed. "His mother asked me if I was so against a white dress because I was impure."

The other woman made vague noises of disgust. "Impure. Jesus." Alice rolled her eyes. "I can't take anyone seriously who talks like that. As though virginity is some kind of virtue and thinking sex can be fun is a sin."

"Yeah," Bella said with a small smile. "In the end, we eloped because we could tell it was going to be drama from beginning to end." She glanced down, watching Alice spread the final sheen of paint on her nails. "I guess we weren't wrong either way, huh?"

Esme squeezed her shoulder. "You're here with us, now."

The bedroom door opened and Vera, Emmett and Rosalie's five-year-old daughter, scampered in. She ran to her mother, begging to be made, "All fancy."

Bella tried not to watch. She tried not to think of what this whole scene might have looked like in a different context. If she were marrying for love and her own little girl was back in her arms. She ached. Her heart screamed her daughter's name, screamed in agony for all the time lost, the things she'd missed that she would never get back.

She wanted her baby. That's what this was about.

"Here you go." Esme stepped up behind her again, and Bella was startled to feel a weight against her neck. She looked up, eyes wide as Esme fastened a gorgeous sapphire necklace at her nape. She smiled at Bella in the mirror. "What do you think? For your something borrowed."

Bella raised a hand to touch the stone, her throat tight. "Are you sure?"

"Of course." Esme patted her cheek. This whole family never shied away from touches, and Bella would be lying if she said she didn't like it. "It's fun to make a little bit of an occasion, right? Even if it is something mundane as a wedding." She winked, just teasing.

Bella flushed. "It's beautiful. Thank you."

"Speaking of which." Alice reached for a box she'd set on the edge of the bed ages ago and opened it. "I got this at a thrift store just for fun." She removed the half-circlet and tucked it into Bella's now-wavy hair. "As a finishing touch?"

Bella tilted her head this way and that, examining the tiny, pearl-esque flowers that now flowed on either side. They were delicate and lovely.

She'd never told anyone, but she'd always wanted to wear a ring of flowers in her hair.

"Thank you," she said, voice thick with tears that threatened to overtake her. She hugged Alice and Esme. Rosalie, still busy with Vera's hair, offered her a small smile.

This was about her daughter, and maybe that was why it sometimes felt so wrong that she got so much out of this whole arrangement. Parts of her she'd let go cold years ago warmed now and glowed. To be accepted, a part of something, not an island adrift on a raging sea—it was all so overwhelming. The hope that she might have her daughter again seemed like too much of a miracle already, like perhaps it would be too much when she'd already benefited from this arrangement.

What, she wondered again, did Edward get out of this? What did his brother, sister, and their spouses gain?

Another half-hour later, she was downstairs, in the Cullens' living room. The space had been decorated tastefully but, as Alice had promised, cheaply. Fresh flowers dotted the mantle and the coffee table. She'd spent $70 each on two trees that her mother would reimburse her for after she moved them to a house she was staging. The trees were beset with twinkle lights. Emmett stood between them with Edward and Bella holding hands in front of him.

Despite the fact she knew this was all fake, an inexplicable tenderness came over Bella as she looked in Edward's eyes. Emmett had been the one to suggest a Pagan hand-binding ceremony instead of traditional vows—since his wife had absolutely forbidden him to wing it as he'd originally planned. The words, especially in this context, seemed more genuine. The ceremony did not dictate "as long as we both shall live," but had the couple promising instead to walk together as long as the bond of matrimony bound them.

Edward looked as Bella felt. There was, for the first time, a real light in his eyes. It was a dim one, filled with uncertainty at times, but also reflected her own emotion.

This didn't feel wrong. It didn't feel false. She wasn't making a true vow of commitment to Edward, not promising to be his wife in anything but name, but she was honest in her vow to be a partner. His hands were steady in hers. His voice soft as he agreed with her to bind their lives together.

Emmett, as he spoke, tied their hands with a ribbon. He flashed them a grin. "Get it? That's where we get tying the knot."

His family snickered, and Bella smiled, a warm fondness for everyone in the room filling her.

"And you may now kiss the bride," Emmett pronounced.

Bella sucked in a breath. Somehow, she'd forgotten this part. She felt a jolt go through Edward. Clearly, he was on the same page. They stared at each other, and she wondered what he saw. When she looked at him, she saw true beauty, inside and out. She was, she had to admit, in awe of this man.

His gentle smile deepened, and he held her eyes as he tilted his head. She tilted her chin up, accepting his invitation and meeting him. They kissed—a sweet, soft caress of lips that lasted one, two, three seconds.

A thrill went down her spine and a shiver through her body in the heartbeat before Edward pulled away. Realization hit her like a bolt of lightning as they dropped their joined hands and turned to face his family.

Imagine that. She loved her new husband.

It was an undefined love. So much of him was still a stranger to her, but it was there—all intense emotion and connection.

He turned and slipped his hand from the loose bind, putting a tentative arm around her waist and pulling her against him with a shy smile, both of them posing so Alice could take a few pictures. Bella's heartbeat pounded hard against her chest.

She loved her husband.

What a strange, bewildering world this was.

* * *

 **A/N: So that happened! How we doing? I have a cold. And I can't take anything for it. I am not best pleased.**

 **Cheer me up? Review? Yes? You know you wanna.**


	11. Chapter 11

**A/N: Hey, you. Yeah, you. You. Are. So. Beautiful. To meeeeeee.**

* * *

Edward pulled into the garage, turned off his car, and ran out of energy.

He'd had an awkward conversation with Peter Damon, his business partner and Charlotte's brother. All the conversations between them had been awkward ones of late. That was to be expected. Of course he'd had to tell Charlotte's family about his marriage.

They were happy for him in that wistful way. Like his own family, they'd been worried about him, but it wasn't easy. He understood that. Still, they prided themselves on their manners. They did their polite duty and asked him about his new wife, their wedding, and their life together.

Funnily enough, it was easy to talk about Bella. He genuinely enjoyed her, and she'd been so lovely on their wedding day. There was very little to lie about when it came to Bella.

He was the lie. It struck him how much of his life was an act. Pretend to smile. Pretend to have interests. Pretend he didn't ache all the time, and he didn't want to spend all day in bed. The lethargy seeped into every corner of his body, making his limbs heavy and his thoughts slow. But he pretended he still cared about his business. Pretended he was a good boss, a good friend, a good son.

That particular day, he pretended until it was just after noon. That was the nice part about being the boss. It was easy to find an excuse to slip away. He was a fastidious person by nature. How strange. He found it difficult to have a conversation some days, but he could keep a company running smoothly, could manage projects, and keep up with paperwork.

Edward rested his head against the headrest, his mind blank for a few heartbeats as he listened to the garage door roll down. When it was done, the garage plunged into silence, he remembered.

This was how it was supposed to end. That day, if he'd been able to check that last box off his list, this was how it was going to happen. Drive home from the cemetery. Pull into the garage. Close the door. Breathe and wait. It was the closest thing he could find to what he wanted—to just fall asleep, fade into nothingness.

A rap on his window made him jump, and brought him out of his dark reverie. He blinked rapidly, half wondering if he'd acted without thinking. Had he turned the car back on? His thoughts wouldn't coalesce, wouldn't make sense of reality in that moment. Was he dying now? His brain turning to mush as consciousness slipped away?

"Edward?"

He blinked again, and his thoughts—only sluggish—turned concrete. It was Bella rapping on his window, looking at him with concern. He opened the door enough so he could hear her. "Are you okay?" she asked. "You've been sitting out here for a while."

Was he okay? He thought about that for a few beats, getting distracted as he looked at her face. She was so beautiful. And strong.

When he opened his mouth, he might have told her anything. He might have told her how he ached with an exhaustion that went to the marrow of his bones; the weight that settled on his shoulders, and how he couldn't remember how to sit up straight. He might have told her about his macabre thoughts and the letters he'd never thrown away. He wouldn't leave her. He'd made a promise to help, and he was going to keep it, but that didn't mean he'd stopped thinking about the letters.

The words that actually came out were nothing Edward was even aware he'd been thinking. "Would you be interested in going for a drive with me?"

 _ **~0~**_

It occurred to him only once they were on their way how trusting Bella was. She hadn't even asked where they were going. She sat in the passenger seat, a calm presence as always. In the five days they'd lived together, he'd noticed she was easy to be around. She'd noticed his silences, but never commented. She'd noticed his habit of forgetting to eat and said nothing, just set a warm breakfast or filling dinner in front of him. Today, she'd rushed back in the house to grab the sandwiches she'd made just in case he came home from work for lunch.

He loved his family. Of course he did, but they just took so much energy.

Their destination wasn't far. It was pre-traffic hours, so the freeway turned into the city's main drag in no time. "Newport?" Bella asked, looking out the window. "Are we going to the beach?"

"Is that okay?"

"Yeah." Bella huffed in laughter. "I always think it's so funny. We live so close to the ocean, and yet I think it's been years since I've seen it." She sighed. "Not since Mac was a baby. She was so funny, squealing and kicking at the waves."

Without thinking, Edward reached over, squeezing her arm in comfort. They were working on their plan, researching attorneys. A few days before the wedding, Liam had finally relented, giving Bella back her daily phone calls with her daughter. The little girl was confused. She knew only what her father told her, and that he hated her mother. She only remembered Bella as a voice on the phone. Their conversations were stilted, but children were trusting creatures. McKenna was opening up again. Slowly. So slowly. Completely unaware of how much she was breaking her mother's heart.

Edward drove them to the beach and found a place to park with relative ease. It was early Spring and a weekday besides. The beach wasn't crowded.

"Random, I know," Edward said as they started to walk across the sand. "You're right. For living so close, I don't get here enough either."

He paused a safe distance from the water and toed off his shoes. There was something about this he liked—the tactile feel of the sand on his feet; the steady pound of waves on the beach; the light whistle of the wind, cool on his skin.

Beside him, Bella sat on the sand, her eyes out on the water as she started to take off her shoes. "I've always wanted to jetski."

The comment amused him. There were no jet skiers out. There were a couple of persistent surfers—crazy asses, the water had to be freezing—and a few large ships further out, but no jet skis. "If I was rich, I think I'd own a boat. One of those ones just large enough that you could spend a night out on the ocean if you wanted to."

Bella drew her legs up to her chest, wrapping her arms around them and settling her chin on her knees. She wiggled her toes in the sand. "I always wanted to take a cruise. Actually, I want to take a lot of cruises. I want to travel, and I think that would be the most fun way. You take your hotel with you. Amazing food. Nightly entertainment, shopping, and gambling."

"Plenty to drink."

She grinned up at him. "And you wake up every day with a brand new place to explore."

Edward nodded. "It was nice. I've been on a couple. I like finding a spot with a window to sit and read with a cup of coffee while the waves roll by outside. In Alaska, it was easy to see a whale tail or them blowing their stacks in the distance."

Bella hummed, her expression far off, and he wondered what she was thinking. He recognized how privileged he was. His dreams, when he'd had dreams, the things he'd wanted, were never far out of reach. He'd worked hard, but so had she. She skirted the edge of poverty, struggling at times to keep a roof over her head and food on her table. A cruise might as well have been a fairy tale for how unattainable it was.

Bella stood up suddenly and marched toward the surf. Edward sat on the sand, watching her with curiosity. He mimicked her earlier pose, drawing his legs up and resting his chin there.

She walked a few steps out, teasing one toe in the water as the sea retreated. It , and Bella squeaked, dancing backward to keep the waves from catching her feet. For minutes, she played chicken with the waves until, inevitably, nature won.

"Oh, my hell!" Rather than run away, Bella stood in the water, stomping one foot as she found herself ankle deep. "It's freezing!"

Edward laughed. It burst out of him as his lips spread into a wide grin. For a moment, just a moment, he could take a deep breath. He laughed again, because the sight of her was delightful. This woman with so many problems, so much weight that should have pinned her down on the floor, and here she was, dancing in the surf with a carefree smile on her face. She took her moments of complete happiness where she could find them, and she was beautiful for it.

She turned to him then, her eyes lit up and her grin mischievous. She darted out of the water and bent down, taking his hands and tugging. "Come on."

"What?" He arched an eyebrow.

She tugged again. "Come on," she insisted.

Edward let her pull him to his feet. "What?" She started to tug him toward the water, and he resisted, though not enough that he unwrapped his hand from hers. "Oh, no."

She turned around, rocking back on her heels as she used both her hands to pull one of his. "Don't be afraid. You have bare feet."

"I'm not afraid. And look at your jeans. You're going to be freezing."

"Ooooh yeah. I'm going to freeze to death in the spring in Southern California."

He rolled his eyes, but let her tug him forward. Near the waterline, he stuck his foot all the way out, dipping a toe in the water, and hissed. "That's cold."

She took his other hand, holding both of them out. "Your whole foot. Two feets."

As though he could resist her happy smile. He feigned reluctance, but teetered forward a few steps until the water could lap at both his feet. "Gah!" The water really was cold. They must have been a sight, still dressed in warm, open sweaters, standing in the cold ocean up to their ankles.

Bella tilted her head up, grinning at him, and Edward had an overwhelming urge to kiss her. He swayed with the power of it, remembering the feel of her warm back beneath his hand as he'd leaned in to kiss her on their wedding day. His wife. He'd liked kissing her. Liked the feel of her lips and the way her touch sent a pleasant thrill through his body. It felt right—the want to kiss her, the satisfaction in doing so. He even put his hand on her hip, as though he were going to pull her up against him.

Her eyes darted to his lips, but then she ducked her head. Her titter of laughter was nervous, and she took a step back, letting go of his hand. "It feels good, though."

It took him a minute to figure out what she was talking about. The water. The chill of it climbed further up his legs, the splash of the waves hitting his fingers. "Yeah," he agreed, his thoughts thick for much different reasons than they had been this morning.

A particularly rough wave caught them both by surprise. Edward gasped, his head clearing. Bella pitched forward, thrown off balance because she was shorter. The wave had hit her at just the right spot to make her unsteady.

"Whoa." Edward reached out, bracing her arm. A charge rushed between them as she touched a hand to his shoulder, straightening up. Their eyes met again, and Edward felt the heat of blood beneath his chilled cheek.

Another wave hit them, reminding him they were in just a little too deep. He squeezed her shoulder. "Come on. Let's get out before we get carried away."

Chafing her shoulders against the cold, Bella followed him back toward the dry sand.

Then, the world shifted beneath them. Literally. Edward flung his arms out to keep his balance, and Bella, who had been bending forward to pick up her shoes, toppled to the ground. The earth shook, and the wood of the pier nearby gave an loud creak that echoed through the air.

It was over in a few seconds. An earthquake. Not a big one, but enough that Edward's heart now thumped with an erratic rhythm. He looked out at the water. The ocean didn't seem bothered, but that didn't make him feel better.

"Are you okay?" he asked, taking Bella's hand to help her up.

"Yeah," she said, voice shaking with the same residual fear.

Acute anxiety stabbed at Edward, putting an edge of panic to his thoughts and words. "We need to move. Away from the beach. Just in case." This was plain fact. With such a small earthquake, a tsunami wasn't likely, but that didn't mean he felt comfortable near the water. Instinct put him in a protective mode. All he knew for sure was he wanted Bella far, far away from the power of the ocean.

Luckily, Bella didn't argue. She kept up the pace he set as they hurried away from the waves. The smattering of other people that had been milling about had the same idea. They all made their way for the boardwalk.

Back on terra firma, with the sidewalk underneath his feet and the ocean a decent distance away, Edward felt better. The itch of urgency still thrummed beneath his skin, but he felt like he could contain it then.

"Hey, it's okay."

It wasn't until he heard her soothing words and felt her hand stroking his back that Edward realized he'd pulled Bella close against him. His stance was protective—as though he was ready to fight the wave if it came at them. "Just a little quake," Bella said.

Edward closed his eyes, momentarily dizzy. Rationally, he knew there was nothing to worry about. Earthquakes, for the most part, weren't a big deal. Oh, sure, at any given moment they could be. But in his lifetime, they hadn't been, and this one definitely wasn't.

He really should let Bella go. He had no right to hold her the way he was.

"Are you okay?" She touched the back of her knuckles against his cheek in a gesture that was tender and, in the position they were in, intimate. Edward's breath caught. He raised a hand and threaded his fingers through hers against his cheek. Slowly, he opened his eyes.

She was looking at him. The space between their eyes seemed alive and heated. "I'm okay," he said, his voice lower than normal. "Just adrenaline."

He very much wanted to kiss her.

Bella shivered then, violently enough that it shook both their bodies. He dropped her hand and took a step back. She wrapped her arms around herself. "Are _you_ okay, Bella?"

She'd started to shiver, but she laughed wryly. "Speaking of adrenaline…" It must have left her, bringing on a mild shock.

"I told you you were going to be cold," he said lightly, teasing. He draped an arm over her shoulders. To keep her warm, of course. "Come on. We can run the heater in the car. Maybe have those sandwiches you made."

"That sounds good," she said between chattering teeth.

He didn't let her go until they got to the car. "You're not cold?" as she sat in the passenger seat, arms wrapped around herself again.

Having had her tucked up against him, how could he be? "Adrenaline," he said again. "It'll wear off."

He got in the car and turned on the heat, as promised. Bella's shivers subsided quickly, and she reached in the back to grab the lunch she'd prepared.

They ate in companionable, peaceful quiet, staring out at the water from a safe distance.

* * *

 **A/N: Theoretically, if there were to be a tsunami, the parking lot of the beach would NOT be a safe distance away. But, this was a minor earthquake, and all is well.**

 **It would freak me out to be in an earthquake on a beach tho. Not as much as if I was on Pirates of the Caribbean at Disneyland (it's UNDERGROUND, yo), but still.**


	12. Chapter 12

**A/N: It's been a hectic time for me. I'm trying to get my creative brain to restart, but between the alien unit eating my brain and taking care of my mother post-knee replacement surgery, I haven't been able to write like I usually do. It's driving me nuts.**

 **So, thanks for your patience, especially in regards to my other stories.**

* * *

Edward liked lists, Bella thought, bemused. One of his more endearing qualities.

Bella flipped through the pages of the legal pad he'd left for her. She'd had no clue where to begin looking for a lawyer in Texas. Lawyers in general—needing a lawyer at all—intimidated her. She had no idea how to browse for one.

Edward had lists upon lists. A list of forums and other sites where he could find recommendations and personal testimonies. A list of the names that stuck out from all his perusing. After that were pages with the name of a lawyer and a list of positives and negatives—everything written out in his pretty, neat script.

Moving her fingers over the sloping, looping letters, Bella thought about how Mac would never get the chance to learn cursive. She had a vision—Edward and Mac leaning toward each other over the kitchen table as he showed her the alphabet in cursive.

She shook her head, rubbing a hand over her eyes. What an idyllic, little-girl fantasy. Even the image of her daughter was almost hundred percent fiction. Liam had begrudgingly sent her photos, but that was all she had. She had no idea how Mac moved, how small she really was. She hadn't seen her daughter since she was a chubby, tottering baby.

And Edward, well…

Fate had a sense of humor. After years of only surviving, her mind had run away with too many impossible daydreams. As if it weren't enough to have hope that she might have her daughter back in her arms. She'd had to go and fall for her husband and his tired, beautiful green eyes.

She hadn't been able to shake the idea he'd wanted to kiss her as much as she wanted to kiss him at the beach. She'd forgotten, for a sweet space of time, that their marriage was an act. She'd turned around, seen him watching her with a smile on his face that smacked of adoration and genuine pleasure.

The laptop chimed, and Emmett's Facebook photo flashed briefly on the screen with a message. Bella opened up messenger.

Emmett: Say, uh, fella. I know a guy, who knows a guy, who knows a guy. Interested?

Bella snickered.

Bella: In English?

Emmett: I pulled some strings. If you want him to, Marcus Russo will take your case.

Bella almost choked. Marcus Russo appeared on everyone's list of top family attorneys. He was expensive—the kind of attorney the villain in those kinds of movies always had to make the situation all but impossible for the heroine.

Did that make Bella the villain?

Bella: How the hell does a defense attorney in California know a family attorney in Texas?

Emmett: Weren't you paying attention? I know a guy who knows a guy and so on…Or, I just shot him an email, one professional to another, and he agreed to take on an asshole like that is worth a discounted rate. Lawyers are drama queens. We like the idea of taking down a big fish or a big asshole no matter what kind of law we practice.

Bella dug the heels of her hands into her eyes, overwhelmed. Again.

Things kept going right. That just hadn't been the pattern of the last few years of her life.

She breathed in and out deeply, fighting to keep her hope under control. This could happen. This really could happen. Her fingers shook as she typed out a reply.

Bella: I really don't know how to thank you.

Emmett: Fuhgedabout it. ;) I'll set up a Skype meeting for when you and your hubby are both off work.

For minutes, Bella sat at the kitchen table with her head in her hands, trembling. She breathed in wheezes, gritting her teeth against a sense of giddy anticipation. She remembered her daughter's warm weight on her hip. Just yesterday, Mac had giggled at something Bella said. She imagined the sound of her laughter filling the room. She could almost hear the pitter-patter of little feet, too fast and too uncoordinated, running through the house. She imagined another day at the beach, scooping Mac up before she could run out too deep in the water; admonishing her to come put on sunscreen first.

She thought about Edward there with her, with both of them. Picking Mac up when her legs got tangled. Putting her on his shoulders at the beach.

Daydreams coalesced into tangible thoughts. She could feel that future; she could taste it.

She needed it.

At some point, before she could tamp down the euphoria, the door from the garage opened. Bella stood on shaking legs and darted across the room, throwing her arms around Edward's neck.

"Whoa," he said. His hand came up automatically, pressing against her back.

"Sorry," Bella mumbled, though she couldn't get her arms to cooperate. She only clutched him tighter, gasping again. Her throat was closed off, and she was breathless with emotion. "It's just… I love…" Her words choked, rationality kicking in a split second before it was too late. "I love your brother." She ducked, hiding her face against his shoulder. She still hadn't let him go.

"Oh." Edward chuckled lightly, rubbing her back in slow circles. "Well, I feel like I have to warn you. Rosalie is fierce. I think you could take just about anyone in a fight, but Rose might be a bit of a challenge. I'm not sure Emmett is worth it."

Bella laughed and raised her head. "Sorry. Your brother got Marcus Russo to take the case in our budget."

Edward's eyes went wide, and he smiled. "That's fantastic." He pulled her close again, hugging her tightly. To her surprise, he lifted her up off her feet and spun her around. Bella laughed, holding on to him.

When he set her down, he took her face in his hands.

And the world went still.

The giddy euphoria thrumming just under Bella's skin went red hot. Her hands had settled on his shoulders. Edward's smile fell into an open mouthed 'o', and he sucked in a soft breath. His eyes searched hers, and her heart began to pound. She tilted her chin up in a tentative invitation.

His breath huffed out, wafting warm over her face. He leaned down. Their lips brushed—a barely-there touch. Bella shivered. He sighed and moved that fraction of an inch, pressing his mouth to hers. He took her top lip between both of his. Bella slid one of her hands to cup the back of his neck.

Edward shifted. His hands brushed down her sides to her waist. He spread one hand wide at the small of her back as his lips lined up with hers. She cocked her head, meeting each movement of his. He made a soft noise that vibrated against her mouth. She swayed in place, and he stepped her backward. One step. Two. Three. Then, her back was against the counter and his hands were on either side of her.

He was there one moment. Then, with a gasp, he was gone. He pulled away. Bella's head automatically followed a few inches until she realized his body heat was gone from her personal space. She opened her eyes to find he was a few feet away. His eyes were closed, and he had his fist pressed against his temple.

"I'm sorry," he said quickly. "I didn't… I'm sorry."

Bella's heart twisted, still beating too hard. "Okay." She swallowed hard. "For what?"

He took a steadying breath and opened his eyes. He took a step forward, tentatively reaching out to take her hand in a loose hold. "I want you to feel safe here."

The heavy anticipation of rejection lifted, and Bella had to struggle not to smile too wide. She wound her fingers tighter around his and pulled him toward her. She pressed a soft kiss to his chin. "I do feel safe here." She slid one hand around him, spider crawling her fingers along his back. "You think I could do this if I didn't feel safe here?"

His eyes met hers. He raised a hand, running the back of a single knuckle down her cheek. It was all the signal Bella needed. She pushed onto her toes and kissed him.

Whatever qualms he'd had just a moment before disappeared. He engulfed her, his kiss hard. His rubbed up and down her back before he took a hold of her waist. Bella gasped into his mouth as he lifted her up onto the counter. She wrapped her legs around him. He cupped one hand around her thigh, the other was warm on her back, under her shirt. She tangled her fingers in his hair, reveling in the taste of him, the feel of him.

Minutes later, when their kiss broke, they were both breathless. Bella took his face between her hands, staring into his eyes with wonder. They were a green she'd never seen—sparked and alive, dark with want. "Whoa," she said.

He was beautiful. "Yeah," he whispered, a hand pressed over hers.

Her words were all tangled up, confused—all the things she should want warring with all the things she was so afraid to wish for. Her life was unrecognizable from what it had been only weeks before. She'd had so little, but all the things she held in her hands now would kill her to lose.

So she didn't speak. She leaned in and kissed him again, softer this time. Sweet but serious. She hoped he could feel all the things she couldn't say in the way her lips and hands moved on him.

 _ **~0~**_

A few days passed. They didn't really talk about the change in the air between them—as though words might break the spell. They kissed goodbye when one or both of them went to work. They touched more, as though feeling their way through intimacy. His fingers found hers when they passed by each other. They watched a movie, cuddled on the couch, and she traced the lines of his palms with lazy strokes.

They kissed. A lot. Serious kisses that left them all tangled up in each other.

There was a strange dichotomy to the whole situation for Bella. There was the thrill of a new connection. What was happening between them wasn't a fleeting thing. They were two shattered people, filling in pieces of each other—becoming a solid us in every sense of the term.

As much as Bella would have loved to swath herself in him, to let these beautiful minutes and hours they stole be only about them, she was pulled into a separate, singular battle. Everything about this new intimacy was tactile. Edward didn't simply touch her; he caressed her, and that aroused sensations Bella wasn't familiar with anymore.

This body had betrayed her, had wracked her with pain. It had stopped functioning the way a body should. As their touches became more sexually charged, Bella was surprised to remember her body was also capable of intense pleasure. She'd forgotten that, rather than just sending spectacular pain shooting through her, her nerve endings could make every inch of her skin aware. Ache could be delicious—the coil of her taut nipples hardening when his fingertips tickled her belly, the internal scream of desire to take him inside her.

Her body, like the rest of her, had slowly stepped away from the cliff of actively dying. For a time, it had done nothing but existed—gone on. Now, it was slowly coming alive again. So Bella was coming to know her own body, new in so many ways, even as she explored Edward's.

Marcus Russo's second call caught them while Edward was changing out of his work clothes. As such, they had ended up on his bed, with the laptop between them, heads bent together as they listened to their new lawyer.

"The write-up you sent me gave me a much better grasp of the situation, Mrs. Swan." Marcus stroked his chin, nodding. "The timing will have to be figured just right. Would you be able to be in Texas for a few weeks?"

Bella's breath caught. Being near her baby...surely if she was there, Liam would have to let her see Mac. Still, she couldn't ignore the expense implied. Plane tickets. Hotels. Transportation. Meals. She couldn't afford any of it.

Edward took her hand and squeezed. "It's doable," he assured both Marcus and Bella.

"Good. I'm sending you a list of things I'll need. Statements from your doctor, Mrs. Cullen. Pictures. A list of people from your life both before and after your illness. And there's a questionnaire for both of you." He steepled his fingers, looking at them. "This is a unique case for many reasons, not the least of which is you're seeking to remove this child from the Texas system entirely. Most of custody law is an ongoing battle in the same arena, but for us, we're trying to win this in one shot—bring the war, so to speak, to your home turf.

"That's why my questions for you, and the things I'm going to ask of you, must be exceedingly thorough. I'm going to ask you not to take offense to some of the questions I ask, and the things I'll want you to do. It's my job to try to tell the future—what may be problematic to your case and what will be a benefit. Parents fight dirty when it comes to their children. The best way I can help you is if I know everything.

"Texas is a red state, so don't let your California state of mind get in the way. We have a few things working in our favor in that respect. It's good that you're already married and not just cohabitating."

Edward and Bella exchanged a glance. Bella's hand had gone clammy in Edward's grip.

"You present a cohesive family unit. It's the kind of nice picture a judge wants to have in his or her head when they decide on primary custody—that the child will have an example other than a broken home." Marcus frowned. "Then again, abortion is also an emotional issue."

Bella flinched.

"There are those whose view on abortion is limited only to the so called irresponsible, promiscuous stereotype. A child as a punishment for shameful deeds." Marcus's tone remained neutral as he spoke. "Those types will make an exception for rape, incest, or when the life of the mother is on the line, as is the case here. But, there are also those who believe as your ex-husband believes. It's a mother's privilege to lay her life down for her child. If you would step in front of a bullet to save McKenna, why would you not let a disease take you if it meant your child would live?"

Beside her, Edward made a noise low in his throat. Bella squeezed his hand now, ignoring the way her stomach was churning.

Marcus put his hands up in a placating gesture. "As I said. These are simply realities we must be prepared for. All things considered, you have a good case. Regardless of what you did, not many would agree with Liam's reaction to the situation. Let's reconvene after you've had time to go over my list, and we'll come up with a game plan."

They disconnected the call and Bella pushed the laptop away. She didn't notice she was trembling until Edward put an arm around her.

"Hey, it's going to be okay," he whispered, stroking her hair.

She couldn't answer at first. She ducked her head instead, hiding her face at his neck. She didn't cry, but she shook hard. Edward held her, rubbing her hands up and down her back.

"This is so much," Bella said when she could speak again.

"You've got this." He pressed a soft kiss to her forehead.

"I'm not talking about me." She raised her head, resting a hand wide against his chest as she looked into his eyes. "It's the money, and the time. Some asshole digging into your life, your business. It's too much to ask."

His eyes were tender and warm as he looked back at her. He cupped his hand around the back of her neck. "You didn't ask." He leaned in, the tip of his nose bumping hers. "If you're asking me why you...I don't know. Because you were in front of me. Because I could." He hooked a hand around her thigh, bringing her leg across his lap. He took her hand and put it to his chest. "Do you feel this?"

Bella's heart pounded as hard as his was beneath her palm, but she knew what he was really asking. She nodded, her eyes caught in his.

He curled his fingers around hers, bringing their joined hands to press against his cheek. "I offered you what I did because it felt right." He ducked his head, kissing her lips sweetly. "When I kiss you, it feels right. And good." His smile was sad. "Nothing in my life has felt right or good in a long time. That's all I know for sure."

There was a heaviness to his words that wasn't bad so much as it was simply present. That she'd fallen in love with this man didn't mean she knew him. She understood what he meant. She knew she loved him. Knew that kissing him felt good, and her life had been devoid of good for so long.

She pressed soft kisses along his jaw, wrapping her arms around his neck. He leaned into her, their kisses deepening, lengthening, until her back hit the mattress. She spread her legs wide, letting his body settle on her as she rubbed her knee along his side, getting him as close as he could be while their clothes were still on.

A thrill of desire went through her, and she arched up as it traveled from the tip of her head to the bottom of her feet. Every line of hers pressed into every line of his. She wanted him beneath her skin. It was a powerful urge. One that had her gasping into his mouth at the intensity of the sensation that rocked her body.

"Are you okay?" Edward asked, pulling back, panting.

"Yes." She cupped her hand around the back of his head, pulling him back down to her. "I just want to do this for a while." She kissed the tip of his chin. "Is that okay with you?"

He laughed, wrapping his arms around her and rolling them onto their sides. "Yes." He tangled his legs with hers. "I think I can manage that."

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 **A/N: Reviews feed the muse! Just saying. ;)**


	13. Chapter 13

**A/N: Anon—Yes, this story does take place in Orange county and Orange specifically (though I want to say I have Bella living in Santa Ana). I used to live in Orange and currently live in Tustin.**

* * *

The form the lawyer sent should have been simple. Edward lived a relatively uncomplicated life. He was employed and had been since he'd left school. Neither he nor his immediate family had any legal problems nor record of any serious health problems. They weren't religious zealots of any kind, nor were they godless heathens by any measurable criteria.

Edward was somewhat bemused by a question asking if he and Bella would be willing to respect the other parent's religious beliefs. Would they let McKenna, even help McKenna, practice whatever religious belief Liam clung to? Not if it meant reinforcing some of the hateful, judgmental bullshit Bella told him she'd been subjected to when they visited Liam's family.

But, Edward knew how to play his part. He indicated the child would be free to practice any faith she chose. He wasn't one to disparage religion just because he didn't particularly want any part of it. He could commit to an hour in a church a week if it made it easier for Bella to get her child back.

Then, there was _the_ question.

 _Tell us about the future you see for yourself and your family._

Bella had answered that question in great detail. The life she'd described was rich and full. She wanted so much for both herself and her daughter. She'd included him in her write up too. They were partners, she wrote. She wanted to be his friend and confidant. She wanted him to be fulfilled and happy.

He thought it was just another rote answer—telling half-truths that the judge would want to hear—until she tilted her head, looking at him. "What do you see for your future?"

The question knocked the breath from him. "What?" he said, his voice much more startled and raw than the question deserved.

Bella kicked off her shoes and turned, sitting cross legged on the couch, facing him. "You're helping me find the only future I really want. A chance to have my daughter back. To think about showing her all the things I whispered about when she was just a baby." She sighed and shook her head. "But what do you want? Even if it's a small thing. What do you want out of your future?"

It was like a record scratch. His brain just froze. He opened his mouth to lie but found he couldn't.

The future had become this vague idea—a thing that he knew happened, but for other people. Not him.

When he was nine, a school teacher had assigned his class the task of writing their future selves a letter. It was a letter of all the things they wanted in life—what they wanted to do, who they wanted to be, where they wanted to go. It was to be handed to their parents who should then hand it back to them on the day they graduated high school.

Edward had forgotten the letter until he'd come across it about a year before while helping his parents clear out space in their attic. He'd secreted it away, and it sat now in his nightstand drawer, still unopened. Those were futures that didn't belong to him, and he felt like anything he wished for now would be just as fictional as any his prepubescent mind could come up with.

Except...

As he looked at her, it occurred to him he did have a wish for the future. It was the epitome of a short term goal, but it was something he didn't have that he was willing to work for.

He scooted over one couch cushion and mirrored her position, sitting cross-legged with his socked feet almost touching hers. He reached his hands out palm up and waited, watching as she smiled with a hint of sweet shyness and put her hands in his. "You in my bed." He flipped her hand over, cupping one hand under it and tracing the tip of his finger along her palm. "Underneath me. Where I can touch all of you."

How strange. He hadn't even remembered that piece of him existed. That he could make his tone low and his words heavy. Seduction. Who would believe he was capable of that?

But Bella's quick intake of breath and the way her nipples pebbled beneath her shirt told him he'd hit his mark. The air around them seemed to crackle, sharp with anticipation, and a smile teased the corners of his mouth. He pulled her hand to his mouth, kissing her palm as he held her gaze. "That can't surprise you."

She laughed—a light, nervous titter. "I, um… I mean, that's not what I meant."

"But does it make you uncomfortable?"

Bella shook her head slowly.

"Nervous?" he asked, cupping her hand palm up again.

She ducked her head, watching the shapes he made against her skin.

He wanted to take her into his arms, kiss away her fear, but he held himself steady. "Will you tell me why?"

"I, uh…" With her free hand, she ran her fingers through her hair. "I don't know. What works and what doesn't."

He understood what she meant, and it answered a question he hadn't known if he'd had the right to ask. Chemotherapy and other cancer treatments wreaked havoc on a body, destroying and crippling more than just cancer cells. Many cancer patients reported sexual dysfunction years after treatment.

And if she didn't know what her body was capable of anymore, it meant she hadn't been with anyone since her husband. Not that it would have mattered. It helped him understand her more, to know not to push too hard.

Her face was flushed, warm to the touch when he pressed his fingers carefully just under her chin. She breathed in sharply but didn't flinch away. He pushed gently, bringing her chin up, and when her eyes met his, he could read the want there, tinged though it was with vulnerability. She tilted her head up, eyes darting quickly to his lips, and he knew an invitation when he saw one. He kissed her gently, tasting the sweetness of her lips. Then, he kissed a path up her cheek and leaned in, his mouth next to her ear. "It just takes time." He kissed the shell of her ear. "And lubrication."

"Fffffuck," she said between clenched teeth.

Then her fingers were in his hair. She pulled him to her. There was a mad rush of movement as they kissed, hard and fervent. When it was over, they were tangled up, her in his lap and his hands touching her hot skin under her shirt.

"Okay," she whispered with her lips still on his.

"Okay?"

"Yes." She cupped his face in her hands, pulling back to look at him. "That is a future I can definitely make happen."

 _ **~Bella~**_

There, again, was the frustrating duality to her mindset.

On the one hand, she was swept away by this man. She'd been in love with her first husband. Truly in love. Yet what she felt for Edward, with Edward, was so much different than anything she'd experienced before. She wanted to lose herself, give herself to the power of him, of them together. She didn't want to think anymore.

He picked her up, their mouths still attached, attacking and soothing in turns. She wrapped her legs around his waist, flying as he carried her to his room and laid her down on his bed, climbing over her as he did.

She was okay, so much more than okay, until his hand dipped down to her shirt. He undid the buttons one-handed, his tongue pressing into her mouth. It was ridiculous how sexy she found it, knowing he could move on her with his eyes closed, that his fingers were sure and dexterous.

But as more of her skin was revealed, nerves began to get the better of her. She was breathless, not just because of the kisses they shared but because of the spikes of something dangerously near panic that went through her system. She panted as he pulled away and blinked, finding him staring down at her bare skin. There was lust in his eyes. His lips were parted, his cheeks red.

In spite of herself, Bella closed her eyes tightly. She found she couldn't stand to look him in the eyes, to watch him watch her.

His fingertips skimmed along the lines of her, up her side and then her center. He brushed her nipple, his hand cupping one breast. Then, there was a rustle and she felt the warmth of his mouth, his lips kissing the port scar at her collarbone.

All the thoughts and memories she'd been viciously holding at bay came rushing back. Memories of a tempest of rage and anger that existed only in the space between her ears. Her body, her wretched, broken body, was too weak to let her scream or beat on the wall. It all roiled inside her.

More than once an unwelcome thought had come. A shallow thought that had no business being there when it wasn't important. But she couldn't help it. Wasn't it bad enough that her husband decided he couldn't love her after all? To lose her beauty seemed like too much to bear in those desperate moments. Her long, pretty hair. Her smooth features. Her bright eyes.

Who would ever want her now?

Bella shuddered, sliding slowly back into the present like a swimmer testing the cold water. She'd spent so much time distancing herself from her body. It was an effort to let go—lose herself in the sensation of Edward's lips and hands on her skin. So many things she was scared to feel again, things she didn't know if she was capable of anymore. Titillation. Desire. Thrill. Want.

And something else. Something that made her breath catch in her throat. Emotion swelled through her, and Bella gasped with the strength of it. Her eyes filled with tears, overwhelmed.

He was speaking to her. Speaking without words. Speaking a lover's language.

As she caught her breath again, willed the edge of panic and shame to quiet, she realized she _felt_ beautiful. His touch told her she was.

Bella whimpered. She sucked in another breath, a sob catching in her throat.

"Hey," Edward whispered. He took her face in his hands. "Bella. What's wrong?"

"Nothing." Her voice cracked when she spoken and she bowed her head. Too much emotion. So much. She couldn't explain it. "Nothing's wrong. It's just..." She shook her head, gripping his wrist, just needing to hold on. "It's so much."

His thumbs wiped at the tears that slipped from her eyes. "Bad?"

She shook her head. "So good." She traced her fingers up the length of his arm. "Too good." She hesitated, because the words in her head sounded silly—the fantasies of a little girl, not the world-weary woman who didn't believe in fairy tales anymore. "I feel like you're someone I made up. Everything I needed in my life. I feel like you're going to disappear." She drew her hand down the black shirt he wore, watching the definition of him against the fabric. "Or that you're going to hurt me," she admitted in a whisper.

He caught her hand, pressing it against the steady beat of his heart. When she found the courage to look up—he had been silent too long—she saw his brow was furrowed. The way he studied her then, like he was trying to find the answer to a question she didn't know, made her ache. But as she raised her free hand to rub his neck, he sighed. He dipped his head to kiss her so gently. "I don't want to hurt you," he murmured against her lips. "You're so beautiful, Bella. So alive. So much...more."

Bella didn't have to ask him what he meant. More was as good a word as any for what she felt.

His kiss, when he took her lips again, was both tender and fervent. He pressed her back into the mattress, speaking wordlessly to her again. Bella breathed him in and, as she exhaled, she let him hold the last of her uncertainty. She closed her eyes, scratching her fingers through his hair as he kissed down her body.

It was like being a virgin again in a way. Every touch, every shock and shiver that rocked through her, was new somehow. Sensation and emotion mixed. He coaxed a response from her body with patience, leaving Bella to just experience. She gasped and arched into his touch.

When he put his mouth on her, Bella bit into her bottom lip. Her heart was beating out of control. Her face was flushed. She had to stop herself from pulling away.

But, quickly, her inhibitions fled. She had no room when her body was rocked—nerve endings lighting up with pleasure. She clenched her hand into a fist in his hair, throwing her head back with a deep, "Ooh," when he used his fingers to play with her clit.

It did take more work than maybe it should have, but her body worked for him.

She tugged on his hair. "Edward," she moaned, breathless. "I want… come up here."

He climbed up her body again, shirt long gone. She reached for the button of his jeans even as he leaned down, sharing her taste. He was hard for her, his cock springing out into her hand as she pulled his clothes off. He leaned over her, taking a condom from his nightstand. She took it from him, holding his heat in her hand as she slid it on.

He straightened up, straddling one of her legs as he pressed the other back at a right angle. She braced a hand against his muscular thigh, feeling it flex as he guided himself to her entrance. He stroked, stroked, stroked, and was buried deep inside her.

They both stilled.

"Open your eyes," he murmured, his voice gravel. She hadn't even realized she'd closed them. She squeezed tighter, but relaxed again as she felt his hands on her body. He worked his hands up between her breasts and cupped her chin. "Bella."

She opened her eyes, and sucked in a breath.

The feeling that welled in her was big. He filled her, body and soul, as he began to move in her. The reverant way he touched her, running his hand from the curve of her ass up to her breasts, left her feeling worshipped and powerful. And somehow, she also felt safe in his strength. He directed their movements, pressed a hand to her ass, angling her so he could slide inside her deeper. His other hand pinned her bent leg to his side, anchoring her as he thrust harder.

Her breasts bounced. Their skin slapped. Bella arched. Screamed. And fell.

Like an exhale, the frantic motion between them calmed. Bella blinked up, seeing him—glorious and flushed and disheveled—but also looking right through him. She trembled with exertion and emotion. She was helpless to stop the tears that overwhelmed her.

He pulled out of her, his breath calming like hers. He guided her legs back down, and she felt him laying down beside her. She'd covered her face with her hands, hiding her tears. So gently, he pulled her hands down and kissed her cheeks. He pulled her into his arms and stroked her hair, just holding her.

She quieted, going limp in his arms. He held her. Consumed her. Curled her against his body. He kissed the top of her head.

Her head blissfully blank, she fell asleep, wrapped up, safe, and cherished in his arms.

* * *

 **A/N: Hope you all had a peaceful weekend. Much love.**


	14. Chapter 14

**A/N: Many thanks to my Facebook group for helping me with this chapter. We have a lot of fun. Come join us!**

 **So… tread lightly on this chapter, and if you have a question, remember you can always contact me. I will answer you.**

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In the soft light of morning, Edward just watched. He lay on his side, his eyes roaming the expanse of Bella's back as she lay on her stomach beside him. What a difference from the woman she'd been in his bed just a few days ago—timid and nervous. As much as it had made his heart ache to see her pain, the fear of rejection, it had been novel too to see she was afraid of anything. But as the days passed, it didn't take her long to find her stride.

She was full of fire, passion, life. He didn't know how she did it—lived each day of her life in the moment, stealing happiness where she could find it despite whatever else was going on. Last night, she'd had a squabble with Liam, who'd cut off her conversation with her daughter when the topic had taken a turn he didn't like. She was so frustrated and angry, and yet not three hours later, they were playing the games lovers did in his bed. They were wrestling, and she pinned him, straddling him with a cry of triumph. She was a goddess—pert nipples standing at attention, red cheeks, big, beautiful grin, hair wild; her eyes so bright.

Edward turned the memory of the moment over in his head now as he watched the rise and fall of her shoulders. He remembered the way her eyes had shone in the dim evening light, how her wide grin had turned into a tender smile as she ran her hands over his cheeks. And as she looked down at him, there was something in her expression that stole his breath. His heart, so cold and dead for too long now, had begun to beat in triple time. His body had arched up off the bed with the strength of what he felt just then. He drowned in it.

He'd made love to her that night. There was nothing else in the world but them. They'd made love to each other. Hard and soft, slow and deep, until they were both breathless and boneless.

His wife. He felt that connection to her in the marrow of his bones. It resonated in his soul, vibrated through him. It was like waking up.

Waking up was always disorienting.

He traced the back of his knuckles along the small of her back. He'd kissed her here, dragged his teeth along her skin, thrilled at the little gasp he'd elicited. Listening to her make those sounds, seeing her come alive under his touch and basking in that look of tenderness and adoration in her eyes, a single thought had run through his head.

 _I'm glad I didn't miss this._

His throat closed around the thought, and something deep in his heart twisted, turning the warmth he'd felt ice cold. His lungs constricted, like his rib cage had begun to pull inward, squeezing everything in his chest cavity and settling a stone weight on his shoulders.

What was he doing to this woman?

Bella was in love with him. He didn't need her to tell him. It was in her eyes and the way she touched him. It was in the intimacy that they shared—heads bent close, whispering and teasing. It was written in the way she peeled back her layers and showed him her most vulnerable pieces.

Once upon a time, when he was a young, foolish man, he'd thought love was enough. That he was in love with her was a given. He didn't understand how anyone could not be. And that should have been all it took to make their story beautiful.

But there was an ugliness at the center of his gut. Like black bile, it spilled through him, infesting his blood as it pumped through his heart, poisoning his soft thoughts for her with a whispering, wretched voice.

 _Liar, liar, liar_ , it chanted.

She thought he was some benevolent entity, a fantasy. _"_ _I feel like you're someone I made up. Everything I could need in my life_ _,"_ she'd said. He hadn't told her it was the opposite. He was the one who'd made everything up. Granted, he'd had good intentions, but now…

With a shuddering breath, Edward turned over, rolling onto his other side so he was faced away from her. There was a terrible pain in his chest, and he closed his eyes against it. Such a strange feeling, like he was about to asphyxiate even as his breaths came and went as they always did.

Beside him, Bella stirred. She made a sleepy little sound—part yawn, part sigh. The bed creaked and blankets rustled as she rolled, and seconds later, he felt her warm front against his back. She rested an arm around him, her hand stroking once, twice lazily just below his belly button. His heart hurt at the soft touch. It twisted even further into knots as she pressed the most tender trail of kisses to the back of his head.

"I like this," she said in a scratchy, half-asleep voice near his ear. "You're the only person I've ever been my whole self with."

She sighed, nuzzling the back of his neck, and her breaths evened out again. He didn't think she'd ever really been awake. Despite the weariness that weighed on him like a blanket of lead over his whole body, Edward didn't sleep. He lay awake, staring at the wall.

 _~0~_

Marcus was a fastidious bastard. He'd sent back a message to Edward indicating he'd missed one question. He'd been asked to detail any mental health problems he suffered from or had a family history of.

Edward trailed his fingertip across the screen, covering the words he'd read over and over but didn't want to see:

 _Have you or anyone in your immediate family attempted suicide? Been treated for suicidal thoughts? If so, does anyone know who might talk about it?_

He could, he mused, answer truthfully that he'd never attempted suicide. Alice and Emmett knew he'd planned to, but they wouldn't tell Liam's attorney if it, for whatever reason, came up. There was no reason having this information would help Marcus with his case.

The question fell under the umbrella of mental health. He was honest that he'd sought counseling after the death of his wife and son, and that he'd taken prescription drugs to mitigate depression. He was also honest that he was not currently on those drugs.

Paper, he knew, would back him up. He was a functioning adult. He lived alone—or had until he'd married Bella—ran a business, paid all his bills. All the hard evidence was on his side.

After he'd sent back his response affirming that he had never attempted suicide, nor was it a problem in his family, Edward leaned his elbows on his desk. He bent his head, digging the heels of his palms into his eyes.

Just days ago, he'd existed in a mostly-numb state. If anyone had asked him why—why he'd made the list in the first place, why he'd methodically gone through a list of ways, weighing pros and cons—the best answer he could have come up with was simply that he was tired. He didn't see the point to his existence. He could have spoken of the lethargy—how moving was an effort, little things like brushing his teeth or even lifting up his head. He could have spoken of the deadness he felt, like his insides were rotting, festering. He was a computer in sleep mode—draining resources, reduced to a low hum in a forgotten corner of the room.

He'd told Alice he wasn't miserable. He wasn't suffering. He wasn't in agony.

It hadn't always been the case. Losing Charlotte was agony. Not so much her actual death, but the road they took to get there. As Edward sat at his desk, rubbing, rubbing, rubbing at his eyes, memories playing over in his mind, mixing and meshing old pain with the conflict rising in him. His thoughts went in circles in his head.

 _Liar, liar, liar._

He was lying to his wife. A lie of omission. A big one.

 _Tell us about the future you see for yourself and your family._

His future. His future was still a blank—an endless void that made him all the more exhausted to contemplate. But he wasn't himself anymore. Somehow, he and Bella had become a true unit, and now his wife was living the lie of his existence.

But he had never promised her a future. Theirs was a marriage of convenience. There was his life and her life. He was merely helping right a wrong. That was all this had ever been about. He'd never promised her forever. He'd never promised to love her. That he did was his own damn problem. That she loved him…

She loved a lie, and she deserved to know.

Why did she love him? How could she? He'd told her. He'd told her about how he lied to his first wife, had kept his silence. He'd told her how something dangerously close to hate and anger toward Charlotte had taken root in him, how it had grown.

How his anger was big enough that he had held his son's tiny, lifeless form in his hands and felt nothing.

He loved her.

He wanted…

Edward slammed a fist down on his desk. He straightened up, tilting his head back. He gasped for air. There was an invisible fist closing around his windpipe. He clawed at his chest as though he could rip this _thing_ that had come over him out. What was this? He pitched forward, elbows on his desk again, gripping his head between his hands.

His phone rang. His mind almost didn't connect the sound to what it meant. He took the thing out of his pocket, resting it on his desk, staring as his brother's face grinned back at him. Everything felt hazy and far away.

He connected the call and lifted the phone to his ear. It felt like lead in his hand. "Hello?" he said more out of muscle memory.

"Hey. I was calling to remind you about dinner tonight. Are you bringing Bella?"

Edward blinked. All the words were English, but it took him several seconds to find meaning. Dinner. Bella. Emmett had told Edward in no uncertain terms that his deal about dinner or lunch once or twice a week was still on. As far as Bella knew, they were simply a family that got together often because they enjoyed each other's company. He hadn't resented it, knowing Bella needed more than him. She was so achingly alone.

So, he'd let her believe another lie.

He blew out a sharp breath. "Dinner. Yes. We'll be there."

~0~

They'd done a potluck for dinner that evening. The theme was hand-made. Edward had come home from work early, and somehow found himself doing something he hadn't done in a long time—making his own pasta. It was a painstaking process, and maybe that was what appealed to him in the moment. His thoughts were too loud.

He was feeling calmer by the time Bella got home from work. So much so that he was relaxed when she slid her arms around him from behind.

"Mmmm. What are you even doing here? That smells so good." She snaked one hand out, reaching for the spoon sticking out of one the pots he had going on the stove.

He caught her hand and moved it back to his waist. "No picking."

She made a disgruntled noise against his shoulder. "Seriously. What is this? I thought you were going to make something carb-o-licious."

"I made pasta." He nodded at the stack of small, circular shapes. "This is the filling."

"You made your own damn pasta? Why are you showing off? Who does that? They come in little boxes and bags for a reason."

"We're supposed to make everything by hand."

"No. A normal person understands you make the filling by hand. The pasta you defrost or boil—whatever kind you get. It still counts as by hand."

"Nope." He looked at her over his shoulder and winked. "That's cheating."

She grinned at him and licked the tip of his nose playfully. "Show off." She looked back at the stove. "So, what is it going to be?"

"Mushroom ravioli."

She leaned her head against his shoulder and groaned. "If you don't let me eat some now, I'm going to have to eat you." She nipped at his shoulder and then his neck.

He pulled away from her, laughing. "Don't you have something to cook?"

"Nope. Weren't you listening? I have something to eat." She dodged around him, grabbing up the spoon. "Nooo!" she cried as he grabbed her around the waist, pulling her away from the stove. She pulled the spoon with her, and put it to her mouth before he could take it away.

"Oh. Oh, shit. Oh, hell. This is damn good." She moaned, and Edward's eyes nearly rolled back into his head. With a feral growl, he took her by the waist and pushed her up against the counter, attacking her mouth with his.

He pulled back only after he'd licked the remnants of sauce from her lips. "Come on. We're going to be late if we don't get a move on."

 **~0~**

Bella had said more than once as they cooked together that it was a dangerous thing they were doing—trusting each other to put together a meal that wasn't all desserts. The spread turned out to be pretty well rounded.

Alice had appetizers covered with an artful display of fancy cheese, meat, fruit and crusty bread. Rosalie had the drinks covered, providing a choice of three fancy cocktails along with a tasty apple-pear salad. Jasper had made his famous pulled pork with cornbread on the side. Bella had made two side dishes—green beans in some kind of amazing lemon caper sauce and zucchini stuffed with ricotta. The only dessert was Emmett's. He'd made the most decadent, rich, fucking divine molten chocolate lava cake Edward had ever put in his mouth.

"No. No, no, no." Jasper wagged a chocolate covered fork at him. "I call bullshit. I call absolute bullshit. You didn't make this."

"What, motherfucker, I bake."

"Nope. No. I second his bullshit," Edward said around a laugh.

Emmett and Alice's heads both snapped over to him, eyes wide. Jasper and Rosalie's responses were more subtle, but he could see they too were surprised. Bella's furrowed her brow. She obviously didn't understand the shift in the mood; she wouldn't know his family hadn't really heard his laugh in who knew how long.

Edward bowed his head, clearing his throat. "This tastes suspiciously like the lava cake from Dad's favorite restaurant," Edward said, keeping his tone light and pretending smiling wasn't an effort.

Emmett stared at him another beat before a slow grin spread across his face. "I make delicious cupcakes." He tapped his wife on the shoulder. "Tell 'em, babe. Tell 'em about the cupcakes."

She quirked an eyebrow. "You poured 7-Up in Betty Crocker's white cake mix. It was delicious, but it wasn't exactly what anyone would call by hand."

"Babe!" Emmett put a hand to his heart. "We're supposed to be a team."

When the table was cleared, they settled into a game of Cards Against Humanity—an awkward, just-plain-wrong card game. The person who was "it" for the turn read a question or fill-in-the-blank from a white card. Other players chose the black card with the answer that they thought the "it" person would most likely pick. So, for Emmett, the strategy was to go the filthier the better. For Jasper, it was the most morally horrible answer possible, etc.

An hour later, they were all cackling like loons. It was Edward's turn. His card read, "Next time on Dr. Phil: How to talk to your child about blank."

"Oh, god. Oh...oh, no." Edward banged his head on the table before he read the last one out loud. "Next time on Dr. Phil: How to talk to your child about…" He sighed. "The primal, ball-slapping sex your parents are having right now."

"No!" both Alice and Emmett joined in his wailing.

"Why? Why? Why would anyone put that in my head? It's so cruel." Emmett put his hands over his eyes, shaking his head back and forth.

"Ah. I think that one wins for total damage done alone." Edward shook his head.

Bella smirked as she reached for the winning black card.

"Oh, I cry foul on that," Alice said. "You can't pick your wife's card every time it's your turn."

Edward put his arm around Bella, running a hand through her hair as he grinned at her. He'd picked her card four out of the last five times it had been his turn, but not on purpose. "It's not my fault she's brilliant, Ali. Get over it."

As he turned back to look at his sister, he saw her eyes were on his arm, not his face. Edward realized too late that the movement was intimate. His sister's smile was blinding.

Sure enough, as the evening wound to an end, Alice grabbed him by the hand, stopping him before he got in the car. "Things are different now? With Bella?" she asked. Her words slurred a bit. They'd all been drinking, though Bella had stopped hours ago so she'd be sober enough to drive them home.

Edward sighed. "Alice."

She shook her head, her smile wide and eyes bright. "It's fine. Don't tell me." She laughed—a delighted giggle—and hugged him tightly. "You're okay. You're better. That's the most important part."

Better.

In the small, pre-dawn hours, Edward was still awake. He was half way to drunk when they got home and, as deep night drenched the world in silence, he got even drunker. He hadn't had a drink in hours now, but it didn't matter. He'd been alone with his thoughts, his memories, his guilt.

He'd known, of course, that his plan would hurt his family, but that knowledge had seemed so far removed from what he felt at the time. Seeing Alice's glee at the idea he was better— _liar, liar, liar_ —it finally sank in how profoundly his death would have affected his family.

He wasn't better. He was still _wrong_ _._ Off. He was full of fury and pain and guilt. It was all so loud between his ears.

He was in love with Bella.

He was hurting her. Or he was going to hurt her. She didn't have all the information she needed to decide if she could love him. What business did he have coming near her?

He was glad he was alive.

He didn't know what he was alive for. What was the point?

He was tired. So tired. But he couldn't sleep.

There was so much…

There was too much…

He was choking. He couldn't breathe. He was hyperventilating. The noises he made, gasping in breaths, were raw and hoarse. The voices in his head screamed. The memories—awful memories—assaulted him.

Somewhere in there, as he writhed, running his hands through his hair and pulling, he tripped. He fell, catching the side of his arm against the edge of the coffee table.

Pain, physical pain, bloomed. Edward gasped, taking in the first deep breath in an age. His mind cleared—not enough. Just a little. He turned his arm and stared at the slash of bright red blood painted on his skin.

Blood.

A wound marred his otherwise smooth skin. Streaks of blood wound their way down his arm.

It had helped—the pain.

But he still couldn't think straight. The voices were still too loud. It was still too hard to breathe.

Clasping a hand to his arm, he made his way to his bathroom. Rummaging through his drawer, he found what he needed and held it up.

A razor.


	15. Chapter 15

**A/N: Mwah. Love you, lovelies.**

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One of the things that drew Bella to event photography was the idea of capturing moments. Staged photos could be beautiful, but there was nothing quite as stunning as immortalizing a piece of life. Unadulterated joy. Peace. Quiet happiness.

Children, frozen in childhood with devilish, yet innocent grins.

Babies discovering the world.

Bella hadn't touched her camera in years—since before her illness. She was digging through the boxes stored haphazardly in her closet when she came across it. On a whim, she'd set it to charge, and now that it was powered back up, she slipped into memories. For minutes that stretched into a full hour, she was lost, flipping through picture after picture of her bright-eyed baby, staring for a good ten minutes at one in particular. McKenna, coming toward her, had one hand out at the camera, her lips caught in the middle of the word she was saying. "Momma."

She had thought a lot about her camera when she was fighting her illness. The camera had the ability to capture truth. Bella wanted her business to be about life's happiness, but the artist in her appreciated the terrible beauty in human hardship.

When she was trying to figure out how she was supposed to do this—support herself and fight a disease trying to annihilate her—she considered turning to her camera. It had been done before. The battle of disease wasn't as well documented as other wars, but not unheard of. Like all artists, even if it wasn't a new premise, her story was hers alone.

At the time, it had been too many stories at once. Too many battles, too much fighting and destruction. A fight against her disease. A fight to breathe through the agony of losing her child. The betrayal of her husband. Not just what he did to their family. She had to mitigate the damage wrought when a man who had vowed to love, cherish, and honor her forever abandoned her—the way it made her feel ugly and unlovable and just plain wrong.

The battle against poverty, against hunger. There had been days when she couldn't be at all sure that the roof over her head would be there tomorrow.

It was too much. She didn't have enough energy to be a soldier in all those wars _and_ be an artist. She'd put her camera away, to be opened when she was a different person, shaped by the battled she'd fought and won.

Bella shifted the weight of the camera from hand to hand, considering the person who'd taken the photographs stored in the camera's memory. A wife and mother, young enough that she still thought she was invincible.

So much of the person she'd been had died. Of cancer or of grief—what did it really matter? She hadn't had time to contemplate the nuances of the person she'd become. There'd been no dire need, she supposed. She had no family, no friends. She herself was too exhausted from the effort of surviving to think much about anything else.

Was she still an artist?

It struck Bella then that her battlefields were quiet for the moment. There was a huge battle ahead in the fight for her daughter, but she'd done what she could for the moment. What had failed to sink in until that moment was that it had been months since she'd struggled to pay her bills. The neverending question—did she have enough to make ends meet—had been answered. She still wasn't comfortable with the how's, didn't want to depend on Edward's continuing kindness, but at the same time, she trusted him enough not to wonder if he'd toss her out on her ear on a whim.

Her job at the cemetery was a means of survival. It wasn't a career. It wasn't where she was going to be the rest of her life. Was this the distant future she'd clung to? Where she could take a deep breath and plan again?

What did she want to be when she grew up, and did it have anything to do with the camera in her hands?

Skeptical, she raised the camera to her eyes and looked with it around her room. _It looks like_ _you_ _,_ Edward had said of her crappy little apartment. In the last few weeks, Bella had begun to let it sink in that she was well and truly welcome here. She'd decorated a little, begun to think of this as her room rather than Edward's guest room.

Was this what she looked like?

She took a few pictures, trying to see herself. Getting comfortable, she stretched her feet out and got distracted by her toes. A few days before, going through another box, she'd found an old set of nail polish bottles, unopened. She'd given in to a few minutes of foolishness and painted her nails in various colors. Now, she lay on her back, setting the heels of her feet on her worn, purple bedspread and spread her toes wide to take a picture.

It all came back to her—light, shadow, angles, composition. It took no time at all for the room to be too small a canvas. She got up and headed out in search of a better subject. It was storming today. The livid sky might be a great place to start.

Coming around the corner, Bella came to a stop in the hallway. She leaned against the wall, struck by the scene in front of her. The curtains were pulled back from the large bay window, showing off a view of the storm-dark sky. Clouds roiled outside.

Edward had pulled the living room's large armchair up to the window and sat with his feet propped up on the sill. There was just something about the way he held himself that caught her attention. He got like this sometimes—far away. She always wondered where he went, wondered about the secrets he carried behind his sad, tired eyes.

He was happy when he was with her. When they were alone, wrapped up in their world of two. That was the only thing she knew for certain. So much of him was still shrouded in mystery.

She couldn't have painted a better picture of what he was than the one right in front of her. His lines were beautiful—the nose, the chin, the shape of him. His hair was that perfect level of disheveled—as though he'd been driving through the countryside with the top of his non-existent convertible down.

Yet, outside seemed to reflect what she saw in his eyes.

Bella felt the weight of the camera she wore around her neck. She hesitated a moment, but then lifted it to her eyes. She focused, letting the camera find the picture she wanted, and clicked.

The sound of the shutter drew Edward's attention. He turned toward her, blinking. She offered him a small, teasing smile.

Her smile faded almost instantly when his eyes narrowed, and his lips twisted into a scowl. He stood and crossed the room so quickly it startled her. "What the hell do you think you're doing?" he said.

Taken aback by the cold tone of his voice, Bella stepped to the side, away from him. "I found my camera," she said as though that explained everything. She gestured with the camera in her hands.

"And you took a picture."

She tried for levity. "That's what cameras are generally used for." She hated how tense she felt. Her whole body was coiled, and alarm bells rang in the back of her mind. It crept along her skin and down her spine. She rolled her shoulders, trying to shake it off. He wasn't threatening her. He wasn't touching her. There was enough space between them that she shouldn't have been so intimidated. "I suppose I could use it as a paperweight, but—"

"Did you even stop to think not everyone wants their damn picture taken? You can't even fucking ask? You just come out of nowhere? Did you think you were being funny?"

Now anger had started to leak into her nervousness. "It's a digital camera. If you don't like a picture, it gets erased."

"That's not the point. The point is you came snooping—"

"Snooping?" Bella clutched the camera. "I came into the living room. If you don't want me wandering around your house, all you had to do was say so." She turned on her heel then and stormed toward her room before she said something stupid. She had to struggle not to slam the door.

She threw her camera down on the bed and started to pace, running her fingers through her hair. Her eyes stung with frustrated tears. Her fingers trembled.

"Calm down," she snarled under her breath to herself. This was ridiculous. She deserved to be pissed—there was no reason Edward had to be such a prick about something so innocuous—but she was beyond upset. Betrayal and fear rose like bile in her throat. Her lungs threatened to collapse; her heart was pounding too fast. A weird sense of desperation made her want to jump out of her skin. She was trapped. He had her trapped.

"Calm down," she said again. She sat on the edge of her bed, knowing she was overreacting.

Rationally, she'd always known Edward wasn't a saint. Everyone had their thing. No one was kind and good all the time. And that was fine. She was no angel. Hadn't she lashed out at him when she expected he was judging her for having an abortion to save her own life?

Everyone had triggers. Everyone. She'd stumbled on one of his; that was all that had happened. This wasn't dire.

When her racing heart had calmed, and she felt like she could breathe again. She rubbed the back of her neck, as though she could massage away how ugly this all felt.

After a while, she picked up her camera and looked at the offensive picture. She scoffed, shaking her head.

It was him. Beautiful and tragic, tortured. Even as mad and uncertain as she was, she felt a rush of adoration at the sight of him. And despite the trouble it had caused, she couldn't bring herself to delete the picture. This was, for better or worse, the man she loved.

She started to flip backward through the menu of photos, resolved to concentrate on anything but the fact Edward wasn't knocking on her door to apologize. She'd been hoping he would realize he'd been an asshole. She didn't want to be the one to figure out how to start that conversation, not when his behavior had reminded her how much of a stranger he actually was to her.

Well over an hour went by before she finally got her knock. The camera in her hands felt like a smoking gun, and she had to stop herself from hiding it away in the closet. She had nothing to be ashamed of. She hadn't done anything wrong.

"Bella?" Edward called softly through the door. "Please open the door."

Resting the camera on the bed, she crossed the room and opened the door. She folded her arms across her chest and took several steps back. She fought the urge to duck her head and looked him in the eyes.

There was something about the shine in his eyes that threw her—almost as though he was stoned. Not quite but close. He'd changed his shirt too, though she couldn't figure why that mattered.

"Um." He sighed.

Bella blew out a breath. "For the record? I can understand you being annoyed. That, obviously, wasn't what I was going for, but if it's something you don't like, I can understand that."

"But I didn't have to bite your head off," Edward said quickly, looking down at his feet.

A small bit of the weight lifted from her shoulders.

"Bella—" Edward stepped forward, his hand out. Bella couldn't help herself. She flinched backward. "Bella," he said, sounding heartbroken now. "Are you scared of me?"

She closed her eyes, breathed in, and breathed out. "Yes and no. Yes, I am, but you didn't do anything to deserve that."

Moving backward, she sat on the bed and forced herself to look up at him. "Edward…" She sighed, hating that she had to have this conversation in this context. This moment should be nothing but beautiful and no one's but theirs. "You have to know by now, I care for you. I mean...I really care for you." She just couldn't bring herself to bring love into the conversation right then, true or not. "I think you care for me that way too. At least a little."

"Yes." He got on his knees so he was looking up at her. "A lot."

In spite of the heaviness of the moment, she smiled. She reached out and cupped his cheek with a tender touch. "It's not you. I mean… this is normal, right? People fight. Couples flight." She stumbled over the word and looked to him to make sure he wasn't upset.

His features softened and he rested a tentative hand on her knee, palm up. Bella threaded their fingers together. "It's just that I should have known. With Liam. There were signs." She picked up his hand, playing with his fingers. "He was self-righteous. Constantly making comments about how this person was a thug, or that woman was a whore. It made me uncomfortable when he talked like that, but I didn't think any of that applied to me. I wasn't going to do most of the things he disapproved of." She shook her head. "I let him think I was a virgin because I was scared of what he would say if he found out I wasn't.

"The way he felt about his faith, the way his family treated me, it all should have told me that if he was capable of thinking that way about anyone, it could happen to me. We were fundamentally different. I did love him." It wasn't the same. What she felt for Edward was so much _more_. "I ignored so many signs because he filled a hole in me, a need I had after my father died. But that difference is what made him hurt me the way he did."

"Bella. I would never hurt you like that," he whispered, his voice coming out with a raw edge.

"I know that." She squeezed his hand to reinforce her words. "But I don't know your warning signs. Just because you would never abandon me, never steal my child, doesn't mean you won't hurt me. I just don't know the pieces of you that don't line up with mine yet. You don't have a strong, uncompromising faith dictating your moral code, but that doesn't mean you don't have _something_."

He exhaled in a gust, looking struck. Bella slid off the bed, onto her knees so they were face to face. "I don't think we're supposed to know all these things about each other yet. Not technically." She shook her head. "We got things all jumbled. The way we feel...or I feel. What we are to each other on paper versus in reality. It's all a mess. I don't think you owe me anything. I'm just trying to tell you why it scares me."

"You're always so honest." He cupped the back of her neck, stroking his fingers through her hair as he looked into her eyes as though reading something there. He took a breath as though steeling himself. "I don't mind pictures. Not usually. And there's no excuse for how I talked to you. It was just that you startled me." Another breath. "I was… Well. The thoughts in my head weren't...good." His eyes on hers were careful now. "It wasn't even the picture, really. Just the thought that you'd been watching me. It felt like you could hear the things I was thinking." He hung his head. "I don't want you to know I think those things."

"What things?" she asked softly, hand at his waist.

He went visibly pale at her question. He swallowed hard. Opened his mouth. Swallowed again. His hand, in hers, went clammy.

"It's okay," she said, taking his face between her hands. "I don't think you owe me what you're thinking. But will you answer one question for me?"

His eyes were heavy, wary is he looked back at her. He nodded slowly.

"Are you in trouble?"

He hesitated for one beat too many. "No."

She moved her hands, brushing his hair back. "I don't know how to define us right now. But whatever we are, I want to be your partner. Just like I promised. There's nothing you can say to me that would make me judge you. You know that, right? Whatever you're going through, I want to help."

"I'm not…" He sighed and tilted his head, resting it against her shoulder. He looped his arms loosely around her. "There's nothing wrong with me. Nothing wrong with my life. You already carry such heavy things around in your head, Bella. You don't need mine."

"This is who we are. Your heavy things and my heavy things. It's all part of why we fit together, I think." She took a shuddering breath, overcome with the emotion she felt for this man. "You think what you're doing for me, even just letting me talk about Liam and everything, hasn't helped me? I don't know if you understand what you've given me. Before you, his was the only other voice I had in my head telling me I was terrible. A bad mother. A bad wife. A hideous person."

He raised his head. A light had sparked in his eyes. "Liam is an asshole," he said vehemently.

"I know." She hesitated a moment, but pressed. "Charlotte is an asshole too, you know." He sucked in a breath, and she hurried to clarify. "It's different. I understand what she did, and you're right. It was only her choice. But that doesn't mean what she did to you wasn't an assholeish thing to do."

He rocked back, pulling out of her grasp, and pinched the bridge of his nose. "I don't… I don't know."

"It's okay." She stood and offered her a hand, holding her breath until he took it. She helped him to his feet and wrapped her arms around him. "Are we okay?"

"Yes. Of course. Shouldn't you be telling me that?"

"Goes both ways. It doesn't matter if I didn't mean to. If I hurt you by taking your picture without asking—"

"No. It was my bad mood. I'm sorry."

She kissed his chin. "I'm sorry too."

They kissed then, and that was all it took. The mood in the room shifted, the flavor of the air turned. Being wrapped up in his arms, whatever they were becoming to each other, was never a wrong thing.

* * *

 **A/N: Mwah. See you soon, ducks.**


	16. Chapter 16

**A/N: Tread lightly, my dears. You can always ask me if you need something.**

* * *

There was a ritual.

Emotion built in him like noxious gas, making him writhe and gasp. His head was chaos, a maelstrom. Then, once he was safely tucked away behind the locked door of his bathroom, he pulled up his checklist. One. Two. Three steps to relief. With each step, it was just a little bit easier to breathe. With the last step, the rush of pain brought relief on its tail, and he could breathe again.

Edward lingered, breathing deep as he came back to himself. He opened his eyes slowly, careful to turn to the side so as to avoid his own reflection. He didn't want to think about what he'd done today. Bella needed him, and he needed a clear head. That was all there was to it.

When he was done cleaning up, he went out into the living room. Bella was in the kitchen, but she went to him almost as soon as he sat down. He opened his arms and pulled her down onto his lap. She put her arms around his neck and rested forehead to forehead.

"It's going to be okay," he murmured against her ear.

She took a deep breath, and as she blew it out, she chuckled. "You're my personal brand of valium, you know that?"

"How's that?"

"I've been on edge all day waiting on this call. This is the first time I feel like I can breathe."

Edward was glad her eyes were closed. He didn't know whether to smile or grimace. He liked that he could be her constant—the calm in her storm. But he couldn't help remembering what it took to make him breathe.

"There's nothing to be nervous about." He pressed the pads of his thumbs to her temple and rubbed gently. "This is what we've been working toward."

"I know." She breathed in and out, in and out. "It's so hard to hope. What if…" Her words choked off in a whine.

He would give anything to be able to tell her the future she wanted was in her hands, but they both knew better than to believe in guarantees. Her eyes were closed, a single tear clinging to her eyelashes. He wiped it away with the pad of his thumb. "She's going to know someday. She's going to know you loved her, and you did everything you could. She's going to know how many times you broke your heart to find her."

She shuddered and slumped lower in his arms so he could cradle her. She buried her face at his neck, her breath ragged and her heart beating so hard he could feel it as he stroked her back.

"We got this," she whispered after a minute.

He pressed a lingering kiss to her forehead. "I'm right here."

Bella pulled her cell from her pocket then. She sat up and leaned her head against his, propping the phone between them so they could both hear.

"This isn't your time," Liam said by way of greeting. "McKenna is busy."

"I called early to talk to you," Bella said coolly.

There was a pause on the other end of the line. "I have nothing to say to you."

Edward's lip twitched, and he flexed his free hand into a fist. He already knew he was going to have a hell of a time not punching this guy in the face.

"You don't have to say anything, Liam." Bella pinched the bridge of her nose and took a deep breath. "I called to tell you my situation has changed." Her fingers combed through Edward's hair, and when he looked up, a small smile played at her lips. "Long story short? I met a guy, a really great guy, and we got married a little over a month ago."

Liam scoffed. "Have you told him what you'll do to his children?"

Bella tensed, and Edward had to bite his tongue to keep from speaking. Fury tightened every muscle in his body. He reminded himself that he couldn't wreck whatever chance Bella had of seeing her daughter, holding her.

Remarkably, Bella's voice was steady when she spoke, ignoring his last jab. "The point is my financial situation has changed. I'm coming to Texas to see my daughter."

There was a pause that went on for an age, and then Liam grunted. "Really? When?"

"I'll be there in a couple of days."

"And you just expect me to drop everything to accommodate you?"

"Heaven forbid. I can pick her up."

"We have plans."

"Like what?"

"I don't see why that's any of your business."

Bella banged her head against Edward's shoulder. "Jesus Christ."

"Listen to you. Every word you speak is blasphemy, and you want to be alone with my child?"

"My child. And it isn't up to you. This was decided years ago. You know I'm entitled to visits. Non-supervised visits. As of right this minute, I have paperwork that says I can take her for two weeks at a time."

"Two weeks that work for both of us. Now doesn't work for me."

"I'm not talking about two weeks right now. I said I'm going to be in Texas, and I want to see my daughter. I'm talking hours, not weeks."

"At the last minute."

"For the love of… Are you going to be out of town?"

Silence.

"Do you have a previous engagement every single hour of every single day for the next week?"

"You're going to be here a week?"

"I'm going to be there as long as it takes to see my daughter. You've had three years. You—"

The electronic sound of a cell phone disconnecting told them Liam had hung up the phone. Bella growled through gritted teeth, clutching her phone in a fist. Edward barely grabbed her wrist before she hurled the thing. He carefully pried it out of her fingers as she shook her head back and forth, rage emanating off her in waves. "I hate him. I fucking hate him." She sucked in a sharp breath. "Why does he hate me so much?" she whispered, brokenly.

Edward's heart ached. He wrapped his arms tighter around her.

"I loved him once. I thought he loved me. I don't understand."

He knew she didn't expect an answer. He let her talk and shake in the safety of his arms. When her breathing was steadier he trailed a line of kisses to her ear. "Remember his word isn't law. Remember what Marcus said. The more uncooperative he is now, the worse he's going to look at the hearing. You know I'd rather he said yes to you. You know I want you to see McKenna tomorrow, but this isn't the end."

He pulled back and cupped her face in his hands. "In two days, we'll be in the same city. Whatever happens, you're going to get to see her. The courts can make sure of that much. That much I can promise you."

She raised her head. "What if…"

When she didn't speak for half a minute, he reached out, tracing his finger along her cheekbone. "What if what?"

She huffed and rolled her eyes. "I don't know. What if he flees the country? Takes off to Mexico?" She took a shaky breath. "What if I really never see her again."

"That's not going to happen."

"It's been so long." He'd never heard her sound so scared.

"You're going to see her, Bella."

She closed her eyes and breathed. After another minute, she pecked his lips sweetly. Then, she really kissed him. With intent. Her hands roamed up and down his back, and her tongue pressed into his mouth. "Distract me," she said into his mouth.

A hand against her back, he guided her down on the couch. He kissed her, and touched her. He peeled away all her layers, and thrust into her hard and deep, until she was moaning, and screaming, and there was nothing else in the world except the two of them together.

 _ **~0~**_

The next phone call went about as well as the first. Worse in some ways. Liam dragged Edward's name into the conversation. He'd found his name easily exactly as Emmett had supposed he would—by going on Bella's Facebook page and looking at the pictures they were both tagged in.

Edward was more amused than angry. His own profile was fairly bare—hardly any personal information in years. Liam had tried to bring his promiscuity into it, mentioning pictures he obviously hadn't noticed were years old of Edward and Charlotte together. Edward had nodded his permission to Bella to let him know just how far he'd shoved his foot in his mouth.

"Yeah, Liam. Unlike some people I could mention, he does know how to honor his vows. He was with his first wife until death parted them."

That shut him up for all of half a minute before he was off on the next tangent. He got most of his ammunition—pathetic as it was—from Alice and Emmett's pages. Emmett was vulgar—the word fuck featured prominently on his page—and Alice was into any number of causes Liam found morally reprehensible.

"My family is none of your business," Bella finally snapped.

"The hell it isn't. Who my daughter—"

"Who _my_ daughter," Bella shouted. "I never lost custody of her. We're supposed to be making decisions about her care and upbringing together. I'm her mother, and I get to say who I bring in her life. You took her, Liam. I was dying, and you ran when I couldn't even crawl. You took her, and now you—"

Edward grasped her free hand in his, squeezing tightly. Her eyes shot to him and he looked at her steadily, reminding her. Part of Marcus's strategy was the element of surprise. He wanted to send Liam scrambling.

"Now you have a taste of what you've put me through," Bella said instead. "For a few hours. Not a few years, a few hours."

"That's why you're doing this? Revenge?"

"No, you fucking asshole. I want my daughter." She took the hand Edward offered and squeezed. Hard.

He held his breath and didn't complain. It was the least he could do as Liam railed at her about her language. He insinuated he was going to have to start monitoring her phone calls with McKenna. Edward quietly seethed, doing his best not to yank the phone from Bella's hand. The urge to protect her was so strong, but Marcus had been very clear. They needed to give Liam as little ammunition as possible.

Bella sighed, and she sounded tired when she spoke again. "How did this happen? You weren't like this when we were married. You cursed up a blue streak. When did you get so self-righteous? Your parents talked like this, but you didn't."

"My parents were right. About everything. There is wickedness all around us, but what can I do about other people? Many can seem kind on the surface. You, for example. You seemed good. Kind. But then you murdered my child."

Edward gnashed his teeth as he felt Bella's shoulders rise and fall sharply.

"I should have known you were capable," Liam continued. "You didn't have a problem with other people murdering their children. So no. I don't tolerate wickedness anymore. I won't excuse it. And I won't let you normalize your filthy ways in front of my child."

"Ours, Liam. She's ours." Bella's voice shook, but Edward thought he recognized anger in her tone. He was glad. The last thing he wanted was for her to feel guilt or defeat. "You're going to have to square with that. Whatever you think of me, nothing I've ever done is enough for anyone to take my rights away. I'm McKenna's mother. Deal with it."

 _ **~0~**_

The morning before their flight, Edward got midway through his calming ritual before he stopped himself.

There was a voice at the back of his head that always screamed at him. He knew what he was doing was wrong. Bad. He knew if the people in his life found him out, they would be horrified.

He was not a good person, as Bella believed. He was not well, as his siblings believed. He was wrong. Corroded. Stained.

It was just that the voice that told him all these things was so quiet in comparison to the noise and chaos in his head. He couldn't hear the voice over everything else. He _knew_ it was right, but he needed to breathe. He needed to think. He needed to be in control.

It didn't matter that he wasn't good. Bella needed him anyway. That wouldn't always be the case, but he had a job, a purpose, for now.

It didn't matter that his siblings thought he was getting better. They wanted one thing—for him to be alive. They couldn't see how much more peaceful their lives would be if he wasn't there, but it was a moot point. For the moment, he had value to someone. He had a wrong to set right. So, he'd taken the relief from his turmoil where he could get it.

That day, though, his mind got stuck on the uncertainty of the fight they were about to enter. There was no telling how this was going to go down or what would come up. If Liam or his lawyer discovered what Edward was doing…

He didn't see how it was possible. How would they know? So far, he'd managed to hide it even from Bella.

But if they did find out…

Edward zipped up the shaving kit with its three loose razors. He put it in one of the bathroom counter drawers and slammed it shut resolutely. He zipped up the small traveling case of toiletries he had for his daily use—deodorant, toothbrush and paste, an electric razor. As he went into the bedroom, he tossed the small bag into his suitcase. There was an itch under his skin. It was strange how aware he was of the razors back in the bathroom counter drawer. It was almost as though he could hear them calling. There was relief to be found. It would take so little. Three quick slices, and he would feel calm. Centered.

Didn't he want to be centered? For Bella? She needed him to be her rock. She deserved that.

Edward wheeled the suitcase out into the hallway, giving his head a sharp shake. He didn't _need_ the ritual. He could be calm. He could hear Bella above the cacophony in his head. He could stop now.

"Ready to go?" he asked as he got to Bella's open door.

She looked up, her brows furrowed. "What?"

Edward realized his words had come out in a rush. He swallowed hard and forced a smile. "Ready to go?" he tried again, slower now.

Bella zipped her own suitcase closed. "Yeah." She took a deep breath, and he noticed then how pale she was. Nervous

He went to her, drawing her into his arms, and hugged her almost too-tightly. She wrapped her arms around him, hugging him back just as hard. —

After a minute she tilted her head into his chest, breathing him in before she lifted her head to look at him. "Let's go."

* * *

 **A/N: Okay. Deep breaths. Trust me. I'll get everyone through this.**


	17. Chapter 17

**A/N: The brass tacks, we are getting to them.**

* * *

When Bella met Liam, he was like her—half asleep in a too-early class, his eyes hooded, his hair mussed, and an expression that said he wanted to be anywhere but a biology class. He'd caught her eye—cute, longish red hair. Pretty eyes. The second week of class, they'd been paired together for a exercise. They'd got to talking. That was the beginning of that.

Liam reminded her a lot of Charlie. His affection, like her father's, was quiet. Bella had never doubted her father loved her, though he wasn't a demonstrative person and he very rarely said it out loud. Liam was much the same—taking her car for oil changes, bringing her meals when he knew she was busy studying. Ironically, she'd first told Liam she loved him when he took care of her when she'd come down with a horrendous flu the same week she had three tests and two huge projects due.

Though her mother meant well, Bella had spent the last few years of her childhood in a whirlwind. Her father, her rock, had died, and Bella was thrust from a calm, predictable life into her mother's brand of spontaneity. Liam had been a steady presence, soothing.

He'd been good to her. She'd been annoyed by his occasional bouts of judgmentalness. She'd frowned when he called a woman a slut if she had the audacity to have consensual sex as often as she pleased with whomever she pleased. She'd rolled his eyes when he let his views about LGBT people slip. Of course, she knew how he felt about abortion. No exceptions. Not even for rape.

But, none of these things had applied to her. She didn't see the problem with casual sex, but that wasn't the way things had gone for her. And she never expected to be put in a position to choose abortion. Even with McKenna coming as she had so unexpectedly, Bella knew she would keep the pregnancy from the moment the two blue lines showed up.

Liam had an answer for every challenge they faced. He was ecstatic when she got pregnant with McKenna. He'd soothed her fears, proposed, and painted a picture of the beautiful life they'd have together. Side by side, they planned their future. Good jobs. Two children, close enough together in age they'd be best friends. Things would be tight, but they could handle it. Their children would still be young when they were on firmer ground.

Bella understood Liam's anger. She hadn't understood at first, but as time went on, she realized it was a matter of perspective. For her, Liam was the most important part of the plan they'd made together. For him, the children she would bring him were. As far as he was concerned, she'd destroyed everything when she aborted their baby with every likelihood she wouldn't be able to give him another. To a man like Liam, an abortion was on par with Bella being willing to strangle the life out of McKenna if it meant she would live. She'd abandoned the life they'd planned together first; he'd followed suit, destroying the future she'd imagined with her husband and daughter by her side.

Marcus had sent a car to pick them up from the airport. He was waiting for them in their room. It was a nice hotel. Too nice. But Bella was far too distracted by nerves to make a fuss.

"We have to be prepared for the unexpected, of course," Marcus said. His voice was so calm, it grated a bit on Bella's nerves. She was so close to her daughter, and yet so far. He could stand to speak with some emotion. "But, there's a certain amount of predictability to custody cases.

"When you call Liam today, he'll probably dodge around seeing you again. If he does, you have several witnesses to the conversation, and we can record it."

"I thought recordings aren't admissible in a court of law," Edward said. "Without permission, I mean."

"We wouldn't be able to use it against him in a criminal case, but it may be of use in a custody case. It all depends on what he says." Marcus folded his hands on top of the table. "If we've timed everything correctly, he will have received the summons just an hour ago. He'll be at his most irate, which could be extremely unpleasant for you, but good for the case."

Bella blanched. Edward took her hand, threading their fingers together.

"If he's already had a chance to talk to an attorney, he'll more than likely grant you visitation," Marcus continued. "Which means that even if he says no right now, once he gets an attorney, he'll change his story. Anyone worth their salt will advise him to be cooperative before a judge has to order him to." He offered Bella small smile. "There's no version of this story that ends with you going home without seeing your daughter."

Edward squeezed her hand—a brief, comforting gesture. Hadn't he told her much the same thing? She had the feeling she wouldn't believe she was going to see her daughter until she was back in her arms.

Bella took her phone out of her pocket and set it in the middle of the table. She'd barely set it down before it began to ring. She jumped, startled. Edward jumped too. Marcus looked, as ever, unfazed Bella turned the phone toward her and huffed. "It's him."

Marcus nodded as though it was exactly as he'd expected. "He got the summons. Take a deep breath and answer."

"I'm right here," Edward said, squeezing her knee.

Bella closed her eyes, breathed in and out, and connected the call. Before she could get a word out, the room was filled with the heart-rending sound of a wailing child in the throws of hysterics. "Mac?" Bella asked, her voice raw. With her free hand, she gripped the side of the table, barely keeping herself in her seat. Every instinct in her body told her to run. Run far and fast. Her baby was hurting. "McKenna?"

Not much of what McKenna was saying was legible, but the gist was clear. Bella's little girl was both frightened and enraged. She ranted and sobbed, screaming something about, "You can't steal me. You can't steal me from Daddy." Stealing was wrong. And bad. And she shouldn't do bad things to little kids. She was a bad person and, "I hate you. I hate you. I hate you."

Bella's heart shattered. She stood up on instinct, but her legs wouldn't hold her. She crumpled to the floor, landing hard on her ass with the phone clutched in her hand as her baby railed at her. She hunched in on herself, wracked with pain as she tried to get McKenna to calm down. "Mac. Mac. Baby, please. It's okay. Listen. Just listen." Her voice thinned out to just a rasp as emotion got the better of her. She bowed her head, closing her eyes against the sting.

She felt it when Edward slipped to the floor with her. His strong arms came around her, and she tilted her head to hide against his shoulder. She shook with the pain of it, feeling each of her daughter's words like a cold knife shoved hard into her heart and belly.

By the time Liam took the phone from McKenna, Bella was gasping. She pulled in ragged breaths, trying to find her voice again as she listened to Liam pass McKenna off to someone else—probably her grandmother.

"Why did you do that?" Bella asked, breathless. "What did you tell her, Liam?"

"I'm in the curious habit of telling my child the truth." Liam's voice was a growl, low and dangerous. "Typical that you don't want to take any responsibility for the things you do. She was there when I got the summons. You have some nerve accusing me of doing anything to her. It's you. What you did. What you want to do. Trying to take her away from her family."

"I'm her family," Bella said through gritted teeth. "I'm her mother."

"A real mother would never do the things you've done. What you're trying to do. Can you hear her? She's still crying. If you were any kind of mother, that would be all you need to leave her alone. You want to take her from everything she's known. For what? Because you're that selfish?"

Bella slumped. Only Edward's arms around her kept her from crumpling to the floor completely. "I want to see my baby."

"My baby wants her daddy. You can go to hell." He disconnected the call.

For a few seconds, every muscle in Bella's body wound tighter. She gripped the cell phone in her hand so hard, it was a miracle it didn't crumple under the pressure. Her heart seized. Her lungs closed. Her shoulders hunched.

For seconds that felt like hours, she couldn't breathe at all. When she finally did, her whole body went limp. The phone crashed to the floor and she was boneless in Edward's arms, wracked by an agony she had no words for. A sound came from her lips. A long, low keen that was almost inhuman. Her body shook with the intensity of her grief.

All this time, she'd been so scared she would never get to hold her daughter again. It was only now occurring to her that McKenna would never _want_ her to.

She was only vaguely aware of Edward and Marcus speaking quietly. She could feel the vibration of Edward's words, pressed as she was with her back against Edward's chest. She didn't really register the sound of the door opening and closing. She sobbed brokenly, and Edward rocked her there on the floor. He kept his lips pressed near her ear, alternately kissing her skin and murmuring softly.

She'd lost all sense of time when Edward shifted. He got his arms around her, up under her knees, and lifted her up off the floor. She didn't have room enough in her head or heart to care what he was doing or where they were going. He carried her to the bed and lay down with her, letting her clutch his shirt. He rubbed her back and ran his fingers through her short hair.

Gradually, so gradually, her sobs quieted. Her pulse slowed. Her breathing became normal. She hiccuped and sniffled. Edward let her go long enough to get her some Kleenex and a glass of water. He helped her sit up enough to drink and blow her nose. He laid her gently back down and wiped her face so tenderly with a cool, damp cloth. Bella kept her eyes closed, helpless to do anything but let him take care of her. She didn't have any energy left. Her eyelids grew heavy.

"He's right," she whispered when she was tucked again against Edward, her head on his shoulder.

"No."

"He is. If I win… It's going to hurt her." She'd known it before, of course. Had thought about it. But thinking about it and hearing her daughter's pain were two different things. "He's right. I want to hurt my baby."

Edward cupped her cheek. "No," he said more firmly. "He did that. He hurt her when he hurt you. He stole her. He kidnapped her, Bella." He stroked the backs of his knuckles against her cheek. "She's scared right now and confused. He's told her things no parent has any business telling a child about the other parent. That's all his cruelty, and he can tell himself all he wants that he's doing the right thing for his daughter, but he isn't. He accused you of being selfish, but he's the one trying to erase you, trying to pretend she isn't half of you. Sweetheart, this isn't your fault. Both you and your daughter are his victims."

Bella trembled. She was confused too, haunted by the sound of her daughter's terror and fury. McKenna had always been wary of her, taking time to open up when they were on the phone. Could it be right to want to take her from everything familiar?

"There's such a big difference between who you are and who he is," Edward said, tracing her hairline with the tip of his finger. "You're going to take her home, and it's going to be hard because of what he's done. Because he made you a stranger to her. But she'll understand how much you love her. She'll heal, and you'll never do what he's done to you, no matter how much he deserves it. You'll never tell McKenna that her father is evil or bad. You're never going to make her afraid of him. It's going to be hard, but it's better for her, right?"

Bella took a shuddering breath. "Right," she said in a small voice.

Right. Yes. She couldn't just disappear from her daughter's life. That wasn't an option. Liam would always make it difficult for her to see McKenna or even talk to her. This was the only way, the only chance she had at giving her daughter all the things she'd dreamed of.

"Right," she said again, relaxing into the comfort of his embrace. "You make this so much better."

 _ **~0~**_

By the next day, Bella was still aching and plagued by uncertainty, but she was calmer. She went for a swim in the hotel's pool. Edward declined, staying in to call his business partner. Bella thought it was a little early in the morning in California, but Edward assured her that Peter was an early riser.

An odd look had come over his face then, and when she'd asked what it was, he'd given her the strangest little smile.

"Nothing," he'd said. "Just a nice vision of the future at the beach." He'd reached under her shirt to tickle her belly. "You in a swimsuit. Maybe a little bikini." He'd grinned at her. "The two of us in the sand and the waves with the kiddo."

Bella had distracted herself from worrying about whatever the heck was going to happen with their custody case, concentrating instead on the conundrum Edward presented. They always seemed to dance around the topic of what they were doing with each other. How real was this impromptu marriage of theirs? They both seemed to live looking only a few weeks into the future.

Maybe that was what she had read in the strange look in his eyes. It was almost as though he was startled every time he saw a future for them, small as it was. And that should have been normal. Who the hell expected them to forge such a strong connection so soon and under the circumstances they had? It had to be startling to realize not only did he want her in her life, but her child as well.

But there was something...else.

Or maybe she was just projecting. All of this was complicated. Finding new love in the middle of this battle she was fighting was beyond confusing. Edward wasn't exactly an open book. There was a lot about his past he wasn't saying. She couldn't even begin to imagine what this was like for him—presumably the first relationship after he'd lost his wife.

She kept thinking there would be time soon to sort that all out.

Regardless, when she came back from swimming, Edward's attention was focused. He met her at the door with a kiss, pulled the towel out from around her with a wink, and devoured her with his eyes. Then, he'd coaxed her into the tub for a long, relaxing soak and sat on the floor, his head tilted back against the tub, just talking.

Bella ran her wet fingers through his hair, massaging his scalp. "You should get in here with me. The tub is big enough."

He sighed, looking relaxed. "I guess now is as good a time to confess to you as ever."

"What's that?"

"I'm a never-nude."

Bella cocked her head, an argument poised on her tongue. Then, she burst out laughing. "We really never have been completely naked together have we? Not you, anyway." Every time they'd had sex, he had something on. His t-shirt a few nights ago. Even last night he'd kept his socks on. He'd even startled her. She'd leaned down to pull them off and he'd grabbed her wrist hard enough to make her gasp. It hadn't hurt her. In fact, it had given her a rush of excitement, and so she'd chalked it up to the adrenaline of the moment.

"Well, that will be a fun challenge—to get you out of all your clothes." Bella scratched the top of his head. "I've been looking for a worthwhile goal to reach. That's better than most."

Edward rolled so he was on his knees facing her. He leaned over the tub and kissed her, effectively changing the subject.

"Come in with me," she said breathlessly against his lips some minutes later. "You can keep your socks on. I promise not to make fun of you."

He sighed into her mouth, reaching into the water to cup her breast. "I've got the best view right here."

Funny. If anyone had asked her, Bella would have said she would never smile again. Not after hearing her not-quite-four-year-old daughter chant over and over again how much she hated her. But in that moment, as Edward's tongue slid languidly over hers, his palm cupped to her cheek, her lips curved up.

He made her happy.

Just as their kisses, to say nothing of Edward's wandering hands below the waterline, were getting well and thoroughly distracting, Bella's cell phone went off. She jumped, sending water sloshing along the line of the tub. Anxiety and tension hit her body like a wrecking ball, shoving all her happy, Edward-related feelings away in one violent gesture.

Edward smoothed her wet hair back. "I'll pick up while you get out of the tub."

Before he could stand, she reached out and grabbed his wrist. "Edward…" The lump in her throat made it too hard to speak.

"Don't worry." His eyes flashed. "There are a lot of things I want to say to that asshole, but I know how to keep my temper."

Bella followed him with her eyes as he retreated to the bedroom and her phone. That wasn't what she'd meant. Not the only thing anyway. It was true that they both needed to keep their tempers, but she'd also felt a rush of protectiveness. She didn't want Liam's vile words to touch Edward.

She stood on trembling limbs and got out of the tub. The hotel had big, fluffy robes, and she wrapped one around her as quickly as she could, trying not to trip over her feet as she hurried for the bedroom.

Edward was perched on the edge of the bed, his expression hard and the phone pressed against his ear. "Liam, I can't tell you how little I care about what you think of me." He listened for a moment and then laughed. "You know, I almost wished I believed in the vengeful, judgmental god you believe in. I'd want to be there on your judgment day. But that's not what you called to talk about."

As he spoke, he reached a hand out for Bella and pulled her down beside him. He took brought her hand to his mouth pressing a soft kiss there. She tilted her head, listening to Liam's tinny voice as he ranted.

"—seeing as it doesn't bother you that McKenna has no desire to see your wife." He said the last two words as though they were filth in his mouth. "You can come to the house if you insist on torturing her."

Bella squeezed her eyes tightly shut, remembering her baby's agonized cries.

"Not your house," Edward said, his voice tight with what Bella thought was anger. "Neutral territory."

"You'd even rob her of the comfort of her own home?" Liam demanded.

"I'm sure there are many places she likes that aren't your home."

"What do you have against my home?"

"It needs to be some place neutral," Edward said again. "Preferably without your parents. I get why you have to be there for this one, but the fewer people around to glare at Bella and say some of the complete crap you've been spouting the better. Don't you ever go to McDonald's?"

"I don't feed my child filth."

"Fantastic. I'm sure you're the father of the year." Edward blew out a breath. "A park then."

There was a long silence on the other end. Bella held her breath. Finally, Liam grunted. "Fine. Four o'clock. I'll text you the address."

Then, he was gone.

Bella let out her breath in a whoosh. Edward put down the phone and turned, angling his body toward her. He took her by the shoulders. "Are you okay?"

It was only then she realized how badly she was trembling. Tears had sprung to her eyes. "He'll let me see my baby?" Her voice cracked.

"Marcus was right. He lawyered up. His lawyer must have told him to cooperate." Edward rubbed her back as he spoke, his head bent close to her ear.

"I'm going to see my baby," she said again, unable to believe it. "Oh, god. Oh, my god."

She covered her face with her hands and melted against him, shaking, excited, and more terrified than she could ever remember being.

* * *

 **A/N: Packy got so mad at me at one point, she triple name threat-ed me AND my child.**

 **How are you doin' out there in fanfic land?**


	18. Chapter 18

**A/N: I'm told this chapter hurts like...a lot. *hugs all around*.**

* * *

There was a strange dichotomy to the emotion in the air as Edward drove to the park. A mother was about to be reunited with her long-lost child; there should have been nothing except beauty and joy.

It wouldn't be that way for Bella. All her young life, Liam had fed McKenna his twisted view of reality. He believed the things he assumed about Bella absolutely—that if she could terminate a pregnancy, she was capable of harming McKenna. That, when something happened as when she fell ill and was hospitalized, she was playing games with McKenna—a child she couldn't possibly care about. From what Bella had said, McKenna was frequently confused and wary about talking with her on the phone, and now this. Liam had made sure McKenna knew about the custody fight ahead in the most heinous way he could.

After all, it was true that what Bella was asking would take McKenna away from everything she'd ever known and place her in the arms of, however loving, a woman who was a perfect stranger to her. And Edward, for that matter—a total wild card who Liam had to assume shared his wife's supposed heartlessness and cruelty. It was one thing to believe Bella was a monster his child must be protected from at all costs, but it was quite another to let a child believe her mother was a monster who would snatch her away.

No. Edward didn't see how today was going to end well. McKenna, however innocently, was going to break her mother's heart. There was every chance that Liam would be right there, saying all the horrible things he usually said over the phone not only to Bella's face but in front of their child.

And there wouldn't be a damn thing Edward could do about it.

"Let him be the one to make all the mistakes," Marcus had warned. "It won't be easy to deal with in the moment, but every instance of irrationality on his part is going to work for you in the long run."

In the meantime, though, it would be like watching his wife be beaten in front of his eyes, verbally pummeled over and over again while he was forced to be calm, even pleasant to her abuser. The violence and rage Edward felt toward this man he didn't even know was unfathomable. He didn't want to just punch him; he wanted to make him bleed—a stab wound for every single time he'd hurt Bella. A thousand punctures to match the ones in her heart. She was broken and bleeding under Liam's assault; it felt only fair that Edward return the favor.

He imagined, though, that rather than end with Liam's body bloody at their feet, the only thing he'd be able to do was hold her afterward. This was going to end with her crying in his arms, and him helpless, unable to assure her that it was all going to be all right. It wasn't anything he could guarantee by a longshot.

Edward flexed his fingers around the steering wheel, his jaw clenched. It felt awful to be the one driving Bella to something that would cause her so much pain. He opened his mouth and closed it so many times, failing utterly at the one thing he wanted to do—help. He gnashed his teeth, disgusted and frustrated with himself. What right did he have to angst out about this? He was so filled with dread about how much this was going to hurt _him_ _,_ how it was going to suck not to punch Liam in his self-righteous mouth, that he couldn't find the words to comfort his wife, his Bella.

He didn't want to be so useless to her, but the right words wouldn't come.

Somehow, despite the oppressive weight of anxiety that fell like a physical weight on his shoulders, they got to the park. Edward scanned the area. He didn't see anyone who could have been Liam and McKenna. He glanced over and saw Bella was deathly pale, gripping the seatbelt in her hand so hard, her knuckles were white.

He got out of the car and went around to her side. He opened the door, calling her name softly. She moved then—mechanically, her eyes wide and unseeing. She put her arms around his neck, and he drew her into him. "Bella," he whispered, heartbroken to find she was trembling.

"Just hold me," she whispered near his ear, voice shaking almost as hard as she was.

He held her. He held her while her breaths came in erratic, winded gasps on the verge of hyperventilation. Bella clung to his shirt, her hands in fists at the small of his back. "She's not going to understand."

Edward rubbed her back. "She will. Not today, but she will."

What a pathetic response. As though it was any comfort. If McKenna had to stay here in Texas with her father, nothing would make up for the time Bella lost with her daughter.

Maybe minutes went by. Edward kept Bella wrapped in his arms until someone nearby scoffed.

"Groping in public. What a great example you set."

Bella started and whirled. Edward kept an arm around her waist, hackles raised as he turned to see a man glowering at them. Liam.

At the sight of him, something primal stirred in Edward's gut. Animal instinct threatened to take over rational thought. He fought the urge to push Bella behind him, to rein in the need that surged through his blood. There was another alpha male in his territory, and he would protect what was his.

Beside him, Bella took a deep breath. "Where's my daughter?"

Liam wasn't looking at her. Edward was well aware he was glaring, but he couldn't make himself stop. The man narrowed his eyes, but then turned back to Bella. "Hello to you too. What? Have you lost the ability to be civilized?"

Edward stared at the man, incredulous. "Are you kidding? No one came here to talk to you. Enough with the games. Where's McKenna?"

Liam's features twisted, and he stepped forward, getting in Edward's face. "You keep my daughter's name out of your filthy mouth."

"So much for civilized." Edward couldn't help himself, he grinned. "And she's my stepdaughter. You're going to have to get used to hearing me say her name a lot."

"You—"

"Edward." Bella found his hand and squeezed. Hard. "Look."

He let his eyes linger on Liam's for one more second before he followed Bella's gaze. He spotted her immediately—a tiny girl with Bella's chocolate colored hair falling in soft curls sitting a ways away, thankfully out of earshot, at a picnic bench with a pretty young woman Edward didn't recognize from any pictures he'd seen. The look on McKenna's face was distressed, her anxious eyes on her father and her small body pressed against the woman as though for comfort and safety. Edward's heart twisted.

They were a threat. That was how she saw them, and she was worried for her father. She loved her father; of course she did.

Edward took a deliberate step back, away from Liam. The urge to punch the man only got bigger. He was the reason that little girl was so filled with anxiety and dread. But at the same time, Edward couldn't be the one to make it worse. Not for McKenna and not for Bella.

He squeezed Bella's hand back and stepped with her to the side, headed toward the table. Her gait was quick at first, until Liam strode past and grabbed her by the arm pulling her roughly to a stop. "I want to know what you're going to say to her."

Edward saw red. He pushed himself between them, making Liam let go. "Touch her again and see what happens."

Liam glowered and looked at Bella. "You're okay with a violent man being around McKenna?"

Bella's voice was low and dangerous. Her tone didn't waver now. "I have news for you. Grabbing someone like that is an act of violence. Don't touch me again. Not ever. And as for what I'm going to say to my daughter, it's none of your business. I'm her mother. I can say whatever I want to her without your permission. Live with it."

With that, Bella turned back and kept moving toward the table. Liam picked up his step, moving ahead of them. Bella slowed down. Edward heard her breath stutter as McKenna got to her feet, standing on the bench and reaching her arms out for her father. When he scooped her up, she wrapped her little body around him, burying her face at his neck. Liam's eyes met theirs as he rubbed McKenna's back, his look full of hate.

"I'm hurting her," Bella whispered brokenly. "I shouldn't… We should go."

"She's hurting. That isn't your fault."

"It doesn't matter whose fault it is. I can stop it. I can—"

"Bella." He tilted his forehead against hers and kissed the shell of her ear.

She took another breath and nodded. It was either hurt her daughter or give her up completely, which would only postpone the hurt. "I hate him for making me do this to her," she said as they kept moving toward the table.

"Me too."

The mood was awkward and heavy as Edward and Bella settled across the table from Liam, McKenna and the mystery woman. They were all silent at first. Edward couldn't get a good read on the woman. Her face was impassive. Bella's eyes were locked on her daughter, her expression pained.

Edward offered the mystery woman a hand. "Edward Cullen," he said, deciding to give her the benefit of the doubt. "Bella's husband."

She jumped and blinked, staring at him a heartbeat. She glanced at Liam and then back at Edward's hand before she shook it. She glanced at Liam again, and when he noticed him frowning she dropped Edward's hand quickly. "I'm Maggie. I'm with Liam."

After another awkward pause, Bella cleared her throat. "Mac?"

McKenna didn't turn, though the quick jolt of her shoulders told Edward she was listening.

"I brought something for you," Bella said, her voice soft. She reached into the bag she'd brought with her and brought out a hexagon-shaped package, setting it on the table between them. "I thought maybe we could play."

Curiosity obviously got the better of McKenna. She turned in her father's arms to look. Up close, it was obvious she'd been crying. Her eyes were red and puffy, but her face brightened just the slightest bit when she saw the brightly colored box.

Liam sneered. "You're trying to bribe her."

That brought all McKenna's anxiety back. Like Maggie had a moment before, she looked between her father and the toy uncertainly.

Bella ignored her ex-husband, focusing on her little girl instead. "They're like blocks, except they're hexagons instead of rectangles." She busied her hands, opening the box and taking out the shapes—twenty-four pieces of hexagons in various shapes waiting to be fitted or stacked together. "It's like a puzzle."

McKenna definitely brightened at that. "Puzzle?"

It was, Edward knew, playing unfair by the slightest margin. Liam loved puzzles, and McKenna had admitted that he yelled at her because she tried to get into his puzzles. He didn't buy her her own to discourage her from liking them and thus getting into his.

Yeah, it was bribery, but so what? They were age-appropriate, interactive toys. "Do you want to play?" Bella asked.

"I don't want her playing with that," Liam said.

Bella looked up, her expression cool. "Well, I'm her mother, and I can say whether or not she's ready for puzzles." She looked to McKenna and smiled. "Come on, Mac. You want to see?"

The little girl cast a dubious look at her mother, but then her eyes went back to the puzzle with obvious want.

"Is that the game you're going to play? Make her disobedient to me?"

Edward scoffed. Bella narrowed her eyes. "They're blocks. It's not disobedient to play with blocks."

"You—" Liam began, but McKenna interrupted them by bursting into tears. She clung to her father's neck, and Maggie helpfully stroked her back. Edward, his hand still in Bella's, tightened his grip, biting his tongue because he knew it had to have killed her to watch another woman comfort her sobbing child.

McKenna lifted her head and scowled at Bella. "I don't like you. You make everyone mad. I'm not bad like you. I don't want to play with you."

Bella sucked in a sharp breath, blinking sporadically. Edward clenched his fist at his side. The feral voice growled in his head. Protect. Attack. The way Maggie was looking at Bella, he wasn't altogether sure he would spare her. He gritted his teeth to keep from snarling at both of them and snatching the child away before she could be further indoctrinated.

"That's okay," Bella said in a small voice. She took a shaky breath and reached into her bag again. "I have something else for you."

Edward noticed the way her hands trembled as she set a few glossy photos on the picnic table in front of McKenna. Liam's nostrils flared at the sight of them, and Edward again had to bite his tongue. They were beautiful pictures tainted only by the fact it was likely Liam who'd taken them.

"This is us," Bella said quietly. "You and me, when you were just a baby. Our first pictures together. I made you a copy, because they're my most favorite things in the whole wide world. I keep them with me all the time."

She didn't wait for the little girl to answer this time, but stood up. "I love you so much, Mac." Her voice cracked at the end, but she swallowed hard and persevered. "I know this hurts, and it's confusing. I'm sorry, and I love you. We can try again tomorrow, okay?"

"We're busy," Maggie snapped, scooting closer and putting a protective hand to McKenna's shoulder.

This time, it was Bella's hand who tightened around Edward's, squeezing so hard he almost yelped. He wondered about her own primal urges—it must have pulled at all her protective, maternal instincts to see another woman touch her child like that. But Bella, stronger than he could have been, only nodded. "We'll figure it out."

Then, they walked away with empty arms.

 _ **~0~**_

Bella was quiet.

She didn't say a word on the way back to the hotel, though she didn't let go of Edward's hand either. He rubbed her knuckles, again struggling to find the words, any words that might help. He was afraid if he opened his mouth, nothing but threats against her ex-husband would come out.

She did speak to Marcus when they got back, telling him how it went and that Liam had a girlfriend. She answered Marcus's questions in a quiet, defeated, and desperately tired tone that broke Edward's heart for the millionth time that day.

 _Fix it. Fix it. Fix it._ He heard the words with every beat of his heart.

Instead, he could only watch as she disappeared into the bathroom, shutting the door, the quiet snick as it closed incongruous to the tempestuous rage boiling in Edward's gut. He wanted her to get angry. He wanted to hear the chaos that put words to the pain in his own heart.

The shower came on, and Edward paced, running a restless hand through his hair. An ugly, awful feeling had settled like slime on his skin that he couldn't see or shake off. What it was that made him feel filthy, he couldn't say. It was possible it was his sense of guilt. Was it wrong to wish for Liam to get hit by a train in the next few days? It would spare Bella the pain of this fight, and put her baby in her arms, no questions asked.

Trying to distract himself, he returned to the futile business of what else he could do for Bella. Room service, maybe? She hadn't eaten all day. He doubted she'd want to, but—

The sound of a frustrated scream interrupted Edward's racings thoughts. It sent him back into that feral mode—no concrete thought but an urge to protect what was his. Bella was in pain, viciously wounded, and even the door between them was too much.

He went in and opened the door to the shower stall, finding her huddled there on the floor as though her legs had given out, as though the unfathomable strength that had gotten her through the loss of her daughter, illness, and poverty had finally given out. She sobbed into her knees, beneath a spray that was too cool to be any comfort.

Warmer, though, than the ice-cold ache in her heart, which had to be a million times worse than his own.

Disregarding the fact he was still fully clothed, Edward entered the shower with her. He sat, his legs framing her and his chest against her back. He wrapped her in his arms and tucked her head under his chin, holding her as she threatened to break apart.

Moments before he'd wished for her anger. He got it. She screamed it against his skin. Wordless howls of rage and sorrow that shook them both. These last two days had been so much—too much. Bella was a survivor, but everyone had a breaking point. It was so much to witness; he couldn't imagine what it was like to live through.

Or maybe…

He'd had the passing thought that she found him safe. A safe space, where she could collapse and be weak, secure in the knowledge he would never see her that way. It wasn't that she was about to break; she'd simply found in him a place she could _feel,_ because he was there to hold her.

He reached up, turning off the water and just held her, rocked her, kept her tightly wrapped up in his arms. If he could have taken her beneath the shelter of his skin, he would have.

Pathetically weak as he was, he could have held her pain if she'd been able to give it to him. He would have borne it gladly. He could hold her, though. If she couldn't stand on her own two feet right that moment, he could carry her. That much he could do.

That was exactly what he did. As her screams quieted and her shakes turned into shivers, he rose with her cradled in his arms. He carried her to the room and sat her on the edge of the bed, pulling the comforter around her shoulders. Her head was bowed, but he pressed a gentle kiss to her temple before he went to retrieve a towel from the bathroom.

Wordless, he started to dry her hair, rubbing his fingers along her scalp. She took a deep breath and sighed, her eyes closed. Minutes went by with no sound by the brush of fabric against hair.

When Bella shifted and pressed a hand to his waist, he jumped. "You're wet." Her voice was a sore rasp.

He massaged the spot right behind her ears and kissed her temple again. "I'm fine."

Her fingers fumbled at the buttons of his jeans. "Take your clothes off. To be warm."

He hadn't noticed how chilled he was until she said it. Dropping the towel, he did as requested, stripping out of all his sodden things. Bella stood up, casting the damp comforter to the foot of the bed. They climbed under the thin blanket, damp but warmer. Not that Edward cared. He was just glad he could be here to hold her.

"Edward?" she whispered after long, quiet minutes.

"Hmm?" He ran the tips of his fingers through her hair, pressing the occasional kiss to her chin and cheeks.

"Don't…" She sighed and swallowed hard. "Just...I don't want to do this alone."

Her words knocked him breathless, because for a heart-stopping moment, he thought she knew.

Then, he realized what she meant. After all, the fact they were married was a means to an end. He'd never promised her a future.

How could he when he didn't see a future for himself?

But Bella was scared, and he'd been searching for the right words all day. They were surprisingly easy to say, all things considered.

"I'll be right here with you. For everything."

No matter what happened. If they won, and Bella had to start down the long road of repairing her horribly damaged relationship with her little girl. If they lost, and Bella had to learn to cope with the semi-permanent loss of her daughter. He could be here for that. He could be strong enough as long as she needed him to be.

* * *

 **A/N: I know, I know. We all wish Edward and Bella could have tag-teamed Liam. Alas.**


	19. Chapter 19

**A/N: My duckies, I just want to remind you that you can always ask me if you have questions or concerns.**

* * *

Her cellphone pressed to her ear, Bella breathed slow in and out, listening to Marcus but trying not to think too hard about anything he was saying. Exhaustion had seeped into the marrow of her bones. Her thoughts and body moved with a lethargy she couldn't seem to shake off. It was like being sick all over again.

Not an inaccurate comparison, she thought. She was sick. Heartsick. Diseased with grief and uncertainty that the world would ever be right and happy again.

"Without a court order, we can't force Liam to use a neutral third party. With the current agreement, the only thing he needs to do to be in compliance with the courts is to work with you to arrange visitation—two weeks during the summer minimum." Marcus rustled some papers. "Of course, he isn't inclined to talk about a visit at this time as your arrangement could drastically change in the next few days. He's also refused my offer to have one of my aides pick McKenna up so he won't have to interact with you. He's insisting on being present for any visitations between now and your court date stating he doesn't want your daughter to be scared."

Bella clenched a fistful of bedspread in her hand. "Then maybe he shouldn't have made her so scared of me."

"Yes, well, that's the crux, isn't it? I can't imagine the way he spoke to you in front of McKenna yesterday and his lack of cooperation today will reflect positively in court. It's much more likely he will seem needlessly cruel. It's his responsibility to remove himself from visitation if he's unable to keep his temper. And he had options. From what I understand, Liam's brother was willing to go to the visit so the McKenna would have a familiar presence, but Liam wouldn't have to deal with you and vice versa."

Bella didn't know what to think about that. She'd only seen Liam's little brother twice in her life. Both times, he'd been a lot warmer than the rest of his family. But then again, that had been almost four years ago. He could be just as pissed at her as Liam was.

Besides, the idea she needed supervision with her daughter was ridiculous to begin with. As though she were dangerous.

But, again, she couldn't deny that Liam had only told their daughter the truth. Her mother, who was a stranger to her, wanted to take her far, far away from everyone she knew and loved.

"Did you hear me, Mrs. Cullen?"

Closing her eyes against the sting of tears—she was so sick of crying—Bella cleared her throat. "Sorry. Yes, I heard you." Her voice was dead to her own ears. "With any luck, he's just digging his own grave. Assuming the judge sees it that way."

Marcus was quiet a few beats, and when he spoke again, his voice was gentler than she'd ever heard it. "It's a heinous thing, what people are capable of. It never fails to strike me. Love is said to be one of the greatest things. An emotion that can conquer all. Yet people who were once in love can damage each other and the children that love created so terribly."

Bella glanced at the closed bathroom door, her thoughts straying to Edward. Warmth and fear chased each other down her spine. She did love him. Was there something that could make him hurt her as deeply as Liam had? "You make love sound dangerous."

"It is, but most beautiful things are. That's why I do what I do. The love a parent has for their child is one of the more beautiful things on this Earth. I like to think I help facilitate that as often as possible." He gave a small grunt. "To that end, I have a few more things to look into on your case. I'll be in touch if Liam changes his mind about letting us bring McKenna to you this afternoon."

The room lapsed into quiet again. Bella drew her knees up to her chest and rested her head on them, staring out the window. Whatever Edward was doing in the bathroom, he wasn't making a sound. The silence began to creep under Bella's skin. She stood and made her way out onto the room's small balcony so she could stare out at the Dallas skyline with the ambient sounds of traffic to soothe her.

Minutes passed by before a pair of arms wrapped around her, and she was drawn back against Edward's chest. She closed her eyes, putting a hand over his and letting his warmth begin to seep into the cold marrow of her bones. Some of the tension drained from her shoulders as he tugged at the collar of her shirt to kiss the skin there.

A measure of relief lifted a small weight from her heart. She was worried about him. The night before and early that morning, she had registered a strange energy about him. She'd had too much on her mind to try to figure out what was wrong. Maybe the stress of the situation had triggered something for him.

Whatever it had been, he was calm now. Just what she needed. Draped around her, it was as though she could soak up his soothing strength to bolster her wounded heart. He nuzzled the side of her hair. "You know what I think?"

She shivered, liking the way his voice rumbled against her ear. "What's that?"

"I think." He drew a strand of her hair back and kissed just beneath her ear, lingering. "We should have a little fun today."

"Fun?" She turned her head and caught his kiss, brushing her lips against his.

Edward stroked the pad of a single finger down her cheek, his smile gentle. "Well, we don't necessarily have to have fun," he said lightly, as though he'd heard her thought about how impossible an idea fun sounded right now. "But this is a big city. I bet we could find something to do to pass the time."

"JFK died here." She turned and wrapped her arms around his neck. "I always wondered what a grassy knoll actually looks like."

"Like a knoll with grass on it." He waggled his eyebrows at her playfunny.

Bella shook her head, charmed in spite of herself. "Smartass. What the hell is a knoll anyway?"

"A hill… or something. A small incline. It's just a patch of grass."

"You've been there," Bella said with a sigh. He was pretty well traveled.

"I haven't been there with you." His fingers walked up and down her spine. "The Depository is interesting. There's a book there where people can leave their thoughts. It's full of conspiracy theories and tales about being led away by men in black when they 'got too close to the truth.'"

"Really?" Bella grinned. "That's kind of hilarious." She frowned. "Or is it kind of true?"

He chuckled, tracing the line of her lips with his finger. "I thought it was funny. We can go, if you want. Play tourist."

Bella considered. "How about...a date instead?"

"A date?"

She nodded and met his eyes slowly. "Maybe somewhere kids are less likely to be?"

He cupped her cheek. "I think I have an idea."

~0~

"Are you out of your goddamn mind?"

Bella was bone pale as she looked at the place they'd pulled up to and the large letters over the entrance. Zero Gravity Thrill Amusement Park. She balked, staring at the coasters and contraptions rigged up inside the gate. Bare towers stretched up, up, up to the sky.

"A little adrenaline never hurt anyone," Edward said, his lips turned up at one corner in an alluring grin that did things to her heart rate.

"Ha. Adrenaline junkies get killed all the damn time."

"We can go visit the grassy knoll if you prefer."

Staring up at the monstrosities, Bella took a deep breath. Adrenaline.

Well. It would be hard to think about anything else when she was too busy being scared out of her mind. She reached for his hand. "Promise not to let me go?"

"I promise."

True to his word, he didn't let her go at all as they wandered the park. There were five attractions, one of them being a simple bungee jump from a seven-story tower.

They took the Skycoaster first. It wasn't a coaster at all, but a harness that lifted them 110 feet in the air in a laying down position and then released them to swing wildly at speeds up to 60 miles an hour.

At the top of that first ride, adrenaline got the better of her. She started to giggle maniacally, desperately wanting her feet on land and to be upright and safe on the ground again. Edward held their hands out in front of them. "You ready for this?"

"No!" she said between paroxysms of giggles. "No. Nooooooooooooo." She was still screaming the word when he released the catch and sent them flying.

He laughed too, never complaining about how tightly she clutched his hand. Of course, he was clutching hers back just as tightly. She was still cackling as the attendants helped both off them to their feet and out of their bindings. As they moved off to the side, she stumbled drunkenly against Edward. He put his arms around her, laughing too.

It was such a pretty sound.

Next, they were lifted up in a basket to the top of a 16 story tower. The attraction was called Nothing But Net as it was a free fall—nothing but you and the net below. They couldn't do this one together, and somehow, Edward managed to convince Bella she should go first. True, she didn't want to be left alone at the top of the tower.

So, he shouted encouragements at her as the workers helped her into the harness that held her, face up, centered over the net.

"Oh, God. Oh, God. Oh, God."

"You got this, baby," Edward said, his grin bigger than she had ever seen it.

Christ, his eyes were alive.

"Okay. Just one more rule," the attendant said, distracting her. "And it's the most important one, so listen closely. What you need to do—"

But as she was listening, still staring intently into Edward's eyes, the attendant released the catch, and suddenly, Bella was falling. She kicked her legs in the air, reaching for Edward though he and his beautiful eyes were gone in an instant.

Only seconds later she impacted on the net, sinking into a safe cocoon. She could hear Edward's laughter and see him high above her. She waved, and he waved back.

The prospect of watching him jump made her glad she'd gone first. She shouted encouragements back up to him as she watched the attendants get him in the harness, neither knowing nor caring if he could hear her. She bounced on her feet, hoping he would scream.

He didn't. He didn't make a sound as he fell.

And as she watched the attendants help him up, her smile fell. Something was wrong. His face was ashen. She saw one of the attendants pat his arm and watched him shake it off.

"What happened? Are you okay?" she asked, coming up to him. She reached for him carefully, relieved when he didn't push her away. His complexion was ashen. "Edward?"

He blinked several times, letting her guide him forward, out of the way. "What?"

"Are you okay?"

He blinked a few more times, and his eyes seemed to focus. "Yeah. I'm okay."

"Did it… I mean, did you...I don't know. Get scared?"

He was quiet for a few beats before he sighed softly. "Not scared. Just…" For a moment, it seemed like he was going to clam up, which frustrated her. But he took a deep breath, meeting her eyes briefly before looking away with something that seemed suspiciously like shame. "It was surreal, I guess. Like how it would feel to jump off a cliff."

"Oh, um. Without the splat at the bottom, I guess?" She didn't know what she'd expected, and she wasn't quite sure how to read the emotion in the air between them.

He furrowed his brow. "Yeah. Yeah, without the splat."

She studied him. "Do you want to leave?"

"No. No. We were having fun." He made an obvious effort to smile. "We still have two big rides left."

He took her hand, and Bella decided not to push it. They made their way to Texas Blast Off where they were loaded into a two-person pod. That pod was drawn back like a gigantic slingshot, and they went sailing into the air. That broke the odd spell that had come over him. Edward whooped and hollered, holding onto her hand as they bounced in their pod.

They were both laughing their fool asses off as they walked away from that ride. And they both fell silent as they came to the grand finale.

Skyscraper.

Whomever had designed skyscraper was obviously a sadist.

"We're going to die," Bella muttered under her breath.

"They didn't." Edward pointed to a pair of women, both of whom were still shrieking with laughter, falling against each other as they got off the ride.

Skyscraper was actually more of a windmill. They were taken up on a moving platform and loaded into a pod at one end of a giant propeller arm. The propeller arm would swing in a gigantic circle with them at one end, sending them spinning up to four G's of force which, they proclaimed, was more than a space shuttle launch.

"Jesus Christ. Fucking. Shit," Edward muttered under his breath in those awful seconds of anticipation just before the ride began to move in earnest. "Whose stupid ass, whoremongering idea was thhhhhhiiiiiiiiiiiiisssss?"

His words cut off as the ride jerked into motion. It was _fast_ _,_ and it toppled them end over end even as it spun them high.

When the ride stopped, and they got off, Bella was still flying.

And maybe for the first time since she'd been diagnosed, she came to a profound realization.

She was alive. Lowest lows and highest highs. She had survived.

And she was living. She'd been living for months. Not just day-to-day survival, but living. Thriving.

Loving.

As soon as they were beyond the gates of the attraction, Bella leapt at Edward. She wrapped her legs around his waist. Because his legs were as wobbly as hers, they tumbled to the ground, but that was fine. She tangled herself around him, taking his face in her hands, and kissed him.

He gasped but quickly got with the program. His hands were wide and strong on her back. He held her close, kissing her back with the same fervor.

When she needed to breathe, she broke their kiss, panting, and grinned at him. She licked her swollen lips, panting. "I want…" She wanted so much. "I want one of those ice creams. The orange ones you push up and get your fingers all sticky. They have those here."

He cocked his head, his smile bemused. "I like those rocket pops."

"They have those too." And she thought his kiss would taste delicious. "And then…" She leaned close so she could whisper in his ear. "You are going to get so, so lucky when we get back to the hotel."

 _ **~0~**_

They spent the rest of the afternoon tangled up in sheets and each other. They fucked. They had sex. They made sweet, slow love. They ordered room service and then did it all over again well into the night.

When Bella, exhausted but clean from the slow, hot shower they'd indulged in, fell asleep, she she whispered the one truth she knew in his ear. "I love you."

In her sleep, she dreamed of him. Beautiful dreams where she had everything she wanted: her daughter in her arms and her husband by her side.

"Bella." Her name on his lips always sounded better. She sighed.

"Bella." The urgency in his voice caught her attention, and she realized her world wasn't shaking—he was shaking her. A little too hard.

Her eyes flew open. "Wha— What?"

The lights in the room were on, so she could see his face. It was ashen again.

No. Not ashen. Pale. A sickly greenish white. She could see beads of sweat on his brow. "Edward?" she sat up straight. "What—"

She realized he had a hand cupped around his left shoulder.

His sleeve was soaked through with blood.

"I need…" He gulped hard, closing his eyes. "I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry. I need you to help me get to the ER."

* * *

 **A/N: The next chapter is already partially written. I'm on it. Promise.**


	20. Chapter 20

**A/N: That wasn't too bad a wait, right?**

* * *

It took Edward awhile to figure out the last time he'd felt such acute anxiety. It was an odd feeling—all panic, regret, and shame mixed with a heavy, cold fear. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry." He kept repeating the words in a shaky tone that bordered on hysterical.

Like being a child all over again, knowing he did something wrong and Mom and Dad were about to find out. A child who didn't know how to own up to what he'd done and didn't want to face the consequences. He closed his eyes tight against the irrational tears. His shoulder throbbed, and his head swam a little. He wasn't close to passing out, but the blood loss wasn't doing him any favors.

There was a lot of blood. Too much.

"Shhh, Edward," Bella soothed. She kept one hand on his knee as she navigated the streets of Dallas. "Stop saying you're sorry. I'm not mad. Just...I don't understand. How did this happen?"

His heartbeat picked up speed, a voice in his head screaming, no, no, no, no.

He didn't want to explain. He didn't even know if he could. He didn't know that he understood himself. What he knew was that, up until a short time ago, he'd been numb to the world. Emotions, colors, taste—all of it had the volume turned on mute. Now, he was feeling again, but everything was an assault. The noise of the world, the vibrant color, the emotional climate around him left him constantly reeling.

The previous morning, his impulses had gotten the better of him. The pain and helplessness of watching Bella battle her monster of an ex-husband, watching her crumble under the weight of her daughter's pain and fear, had been too much for him. Selfish. So selfish. He needed to be strong for her, but he couldn't focus—not until he'd given in and traced three careful, impossibly thin lines just above his the heel of his left foot.

He'd gotten good at finding places where the cuts were hard to spot and easy to hide. He had control. After that first time, he'd kept the lines thin. It was just enough to give him release and clarity of thought. Until their shower together—during which they'd both been oblivious to anything except the touch and taste of each other—he'd never been fully nude in front of her. The cuts had always been small, thin, and easy to miss.

Today—yesterday—had been a different story entirely.

He'd seen a brochure for the high thrills amusement park in the hotel lobby and thought it had merit. Who could be dour falling from great heights or swinging around at to speeds? Scared out of their minds, sure, but sad?

And, for a time, it had been the best idea he ever had. Bella clung to him, her eyes bright again, shoulders un-slumped. The park had been great.

Until that freefall.

"It was an accident," Edward said, realizing he hadn't answered Bella's question. "And it's not bad. It's not…" He'd just gotten carried away. His thoughts whirling. The fall. And Bella. Bella, so perfect in his arms, beneath him, above him.

Her voice in his ear telling him what he'd already known. She loved him.

She loved him.

He hadn't been able to sleep. Too guilty, because he wanted to be better for her, but the urge. The urge was still there. He wanted to cut again.

That and he hadn't been able to stop thinking about the fall.

His death had been such an inevitability for so long he'd lost count of how many ways he'd imagined it. Falling, though. Falling had been a popular one. It seemed like such a freeing thought. The freedom and exhilaration of flight and then, bam. Done. It would all be over.

And that…

He didn't understand how he could think of that when he couldn't get enough of the woman in his arms. He didn't understand how his thoughts kept returning to the fall—the simplicity of it—when he wanted to be there to see her through the challenge ahead of her.

But he couldn't silence the voices in his head. The ones telling him Bella would be fine without him. She was so alive. Even after all she'd been through, it had taken her no time at all to remember how to laugh again. How to seize every moment of happiness.

He made her happy. That didn't make sense.

"Okay, it was an accident," Bella said, her words measured. "But how?"

A shudder went through him. He just got carried away. That was all. His hands had been shaking. He'd been desperate to stop the noise in his head. "It was just an accident."

"Okay," Bella said with a sigh, obviously understanding she wasn't going to get a clear answer from him. "It's okay."

"It's not bad. Just a few stitches," he said as though that answer should satisfy her.

Bella didn't press. She dropped him off at the entrance to the hospital and was back by his side in minutes after she'd parked their rental car. She wordlessly took the clipboard he'd been handed from him and began to fill out the paperwork without a word other than to glance at him when she didn't know the answer.

Guilt got heavier by the second, making his throat tight. What was it costing her not to demand answers from him? She had the right. If Liam found out about this…

He broke out in a cold sweat, his words tangling in his mouth. Try though he might, he couldn't find an excuse for this. It had been an accident, but one that happened only because was doing something he couldn't expect anyone to understand. He couldn't say he understood himself.

It took him unforgivably long to realize Bella looked not unlike she was going to faint herself. Concern helped focus him a bit, though he wondered for a brief moment of panic if she'd figured out he was a lunatic. "Bella?"

"Huh?" she said, looking up at him as though snapping out of a daze.

"Are you…" He winced. "I know you're not okay being here, but you're looking really pale. Are you okay?"

She smiled wanly at him. "Don't worry about me. It's the blood. Makes me a little queasy when it's…" She nodded at his shoulder, which did look gruesome. His shirt stuck to his skin, and his arm was streaked with dried rivulets. The nurses had given him gauze to hold against the cut and promised the wait wasn't too long.

Blood made her queasy, but she'd bucked up enough to drive him here and sit by his side. He was just one more thing she had to be strong for.

Before he could find words—any words—to say to her, a nurse called his name.

"I can go with you," she said. "Hold your hand. If you want." These were definitely new waters for them.

He ached with how good she was to him and how little he deserved it. "I'm okay. I'm sure it won't be long." No part of him wanted her to hear the things he was likely going to have to say.

As he expected, the wound wasn't too bad; just too deep to close on its own. Three stitches. That was all.

"How did this happen?" the nurse asked, and when he said again it was an accident, she left it at that. He hoped that would be the end of it.

No such luck. When the wound had been thoroughly cleaned, stitched, and he had been lectured about care, the doctor looked him in the eyes. "Mr. Cullen, with this kind of injury, it's common practice to have you speak to a social worker before we release you. Luckily, our social worker on call was already in the hospital, and she's available now."

Edward's heartbeat picked up again, the back of his neck gone prickly. "Is that necessary? Can I—"

But it was too late. Someone rapped on the wall and both he and the doctor looked up to see a woman with jet black hair and a kind smile. "Am I interrupting?"

The doctor stood and exchanged smiles with the social worker. "We're all done here." He looked to Edward and nodded. "Take care of yourself, Mr. Cullen."

"Hello, Mr. Cullen. My name is Zafrina Vaughn." She offered her hand and, after he gave it a weak shake, sat on the stool the doctor had just vacated.

Edward swallowed hard and tried to sit up straight—a difficult thing when he would have rather melted into the floor. But he had to talk his way out of this. He fixed an image of Bella and her beautiful little girl in his head, cleared his throat, and spoke. "I can guess what this looks like, Ms. Vaughn, but I can assure you, this isn't necessary."

Zafrina's answering smile was calm and unassuming. "This is just a chat, Mr. Cullen. Can I call you Edward?"

He nodded uneasily.

"There's absolutely nothing to worry about. We want to make sure you don't end up here again."

"Well, I don't live in Dallas, so that won't be a problem."

"Do you have family here? Or is this vacation for pleasure?"

Edward sighed though he didn't miss her attempt at humor. "My wife is in the middle of a nasty custody battle with her ex-husband."

"Custody. That's a stressful situation. Especially when there's a distance between the parents." She glanced at her clipboard and arched an eyebrow. "California. That's quite a distance between. Very stressful."

Edward flexed his hand at his side. This was stressful too, he wanted to tell her. He was waiting for her to spring the trap she was laying. "It's been a very difficult time for my wife."

"Not for you?"

Edward didn't answer, and Zafrina didn't push on that note. She went on, "It's not entirely unusual for someone to lash out when they're in a frustrating situation like that. Displacement."

"What?" Edward balked. "Are you trying to suggest that my wife had something to do with this?"

"Well, that wound was inflicted by someone. It's a little too straight to be a falling accident or something like that. Domestic violence is—"

"My wife didn't touch me. Jesus Christ."

Zafrina put up a placating palm. "I believe you." She tilted her head. "The doctor noticed the cuts on the underside of your arm, up near your armpit. Neat. Recently healed."

Edward's breath caught in his throat. He turned away from the social worker, heart pounding fast and skin tingling with awareness. He gripped his hands in fists.

"All those wounds are self-inflicted, right?" Zafrina's voice remained unassuming, unaccusing. She was on a simple, fact-finding mission.

Edward reeled and didn't answer.

"It's okay." Her tone had gentled considerably. "It's not an uncommon thing, and we can help you."

"I don't—" But that was as much as Edward's too-tight throat would let him get out.

"Sincerely, Edward. This is a safe space. No one here is going to judge you. We just want you to be healthy." She touched his knee briefly, but pulled away instantly when he flinched. "Do you feel you want to die?"

"I—" Edward's voice cut off in a strangled sound. He tilted his head up, staring above her head, dizzy and freezing and and hardly able to breathe.

"No," he whispered, the whispered word a revelation to himself. "No, I don't. I really, really don't."

And he was terrified. He wasn't sure he knew how anymore. How to live. How not to think about dying.

"Look." He shook his head hard, panic coursing through him. He had the urge to sprint—dart out of here as fast as his legs could take him, stopping only enough to grab Bella. Warning lights flashed and alarms blared in his head. "This is...you can't lock me up, okay? Not right now. If you did…" He swallowed hard, trying to regain some sense of coherence. "I know this is messed up. I know that. But that's not what I was trying to do. Not right now. I told you, Bella is trying to get custody of her daughter, and this would ruin her chance. We only have this one shot. This...this...This was an accident. I wasn't trying to die. This isn't about that."

"No, it's not. I know that." Zafrina had both hands up now, her tone soothing. "It's a coping mechanism. Most often, it's about survival, not death. Don't worry, Edward. No one's trying to lock you up. I couldn't even if I wanted to, and I don't want to."

He tilted his head down, glaring at her. "You don't?"

"No. That's not a goal anyone has. If you're an immediate danger to yourself or others, we do what we have to do, but it's not a great solution. You can check yourself in voluntarily. Everything works better when it's what you want or at least your choice, but my job isn't to keep you. My job is to help you assess the best ways to keep yourself healthy. For something like this, we want to talk more about support systems."

She tilted her chin, her eyes searching his a beat. "Does anyone know about the cutting?"

Edward winced at the word but shook his head slowly.

"Tell me about your wife."

"I told you. She had nothing to do with this." Edward's defenses flared back to full force.

"And I said I believe you. I meant, is she someone you can talk to?"

Zafrina's gentle questioning went on for about ten more minutes. Edward gradually calmed. He felt pathetic and exhausted, but he wasn't scared his world was about to implode anymore. They talked about his support system and the day-to-day stress of his life.

"I'm not a psychologist," Zafrina warned several times. "But I can tell you without a doubt what you're doing isn't about weakness. There's something horribly painful inside of you. That's a very real thing. You're doing what you can to cope.

"It's not so much different than drug or alcohol abuse. It's a form of self-preservation—finding a way to cope with things that are unbearable. It's not a healthy coping mechanism, of course, and like any addiction, it rewrites priorities in your mind. Which is why you were unable to stop yourself even though you know the potential risk to your wife's case.

"The goal with self-harm is to replace unhealthy coping mechanisms with something better. And that isn't as easy a task as you probably think it should be. It's unlikely you can do it alone, which, again isn't a sign of weakness. Your brain is a body part like any other, and when it breaks or cracks, so to speak, you need help to fix it. That involves the right professionals of course, but also support."

Zafrina ended their talk by telling him about a few general coping mechanisms—things he could do when he got the urge to self-harm. A lot of them sounded foolish. Drawing on his skin where he wanted to cut. Punch a pillow. But he supposed those things were no more foolish than cutting.

"Will you bring my wife back here?" he asked when Zafrina told him the doctor would be back soon to sign him out. His voice was flat to his own ears, and his heart sick with what he had to do.

He closed his eyes and took deep, calming breaths. His world spun quietly now—not a panic, but an inevitable decline down, down, down into a bleak future.

"Edward?"

There was so much trepidation in her voice, his heart ached. He'd come to the conclusion he had to tell her. There was no other explanation for what had happened that wasn't the truth—especially not when he'd left the razor on the counter. And she deserved the truth at this point. They were getting deeper into whatever was going on between them. They were falling harder and faster. She deserved to know who she was falling for.

He opened his eyes and extended a hand to her. Ever trusting, she took it, and he took the time to try to memorize the tenderness in her eyes; the way she looked at him.

He licked his lips, looking up at the ceiling as he began to speak. "They day you collapsed at the flower shop, I was planning to kill myself."

She gasped, her hand tightening on his. She whispered his name, but Edward didn't look at her. He kept talking. He let it all go, his words rambling only semi-coherently. He didn't really understand his own thought process, so trying to explain it was all but impossible.

When he was done, caught up to this early morning hour, there was silence. His heart pounded. He struggled to keep from shivering. He waited.

She didn't say a word.

After a full, painful minute, Edward let out a shuddering breath. "I know you probably feel like you're stuck, but that's not fair. I promise, as soon as we get home, I'll help you. Whatever you need. If you need an apartment, I can—"

"What? I'm not leaving."

He continued staring up. The tiniest shred of hope clicked on, a minute flame in the otherwise cold and desolate expanse of his chest. He squashed it quickly. "I just told you I'm a lunatic, Bella."

"That's not what you said. That's not what I heard." She shifted beside him, angling her body toward his as she took his hand in both of hers. "You're sick, Edward."

He ducked his head, but she caught his chin, tugging his head to the side so he would be looking at her if his eyes weren't lowered. "No," she said. "No, there's nothing to be ashamed of. You're sick. You think I would judge you for that?"

He finally looked at her, finding her brown eyes watering but still full of the tenderness he was sure he'd lost. "Bella," he whispered, drawing a shaky hand down her cheek. "That's not… It's not even close to the same thing."

"You don't think so?"

"I did this…" He had to swallow hard, and he ducked his head again. "You didn't do it to yourself."

She brushed her fingers through his hair, and he almost wished she wouldn't. Her gentle touch was painful to him just then, but he couldn't bring himself to tell her to stop. This was going to end with her walking away from him, and he was going to savor each touch even if it killed him.

"You chose this?" Her thumb brushed over his ear. "You chose to want to do these things to yourself? You choose to want to feel the way you do, so that cutting yourself feels _better_ than what's inside you?"

Edward didn't have an answer to that.

"I don't believe you chose this, Edward. I think you got sick. That's all." She took a deep breath, her fingers working to soothe his out of their tight fist. "What kind of wife would I be if I left you to battle this sonova bitch of a disease by yourself?"

He was shaking in earnest now. Tremors wracked his body. He just didn't understand. "Bella… Why should you have to deal with this? Why on top of everything you've been through? Especially when my stupidity could have cost you so much? If Liam found out—"

"Liam isn't going to find out." She said the words in a rush, and then took a deep breath. "Your health isn't a matter of public record, and this isn't some Hollywood movie. He hasn't hired a private detective to follow us while we're here, and even if he did, he'd have no way of knowing why you had to go to urgent care. We're fine."

At that pronouncement, she paused a moment, steadying herself so her voice didn't shake as she continued. "Life doesn't work like that, Edward. You and I know that better than anyone. If Charlotte and I hadn't been pregnant when we found out we were sick. If Liam hadn't left me destitute and fighting for my life. If we only had to deal with one thing at a time. But it's never going to be like that.

"Besides, I could turn it back on you. You think it's asking any more of me than I'm asking of you right now? If we win this thing, I'm bringing home a traumatized child. Your stepdaughter. And that's going to be a battle too. You fight mine with me, and I fight yours with you. That's how marriage is supposed to work." She squeezed his hands. "We're going to fight, right? You and me together. We're going to fight. For your life, and for our family."

Family. The word knocked him breathless.

"Oh, God. Edward. This is so confusing. I'm not trying to make things harder on you. I don't know exactly what you need. We've only known each other a few months. It's crazy to talk like that. I'm not talking about forever. It's like you said when we got married. We're family. Even if we're just friends, we're family now. That's what I meant.

"No." Edward's voice was raw. He shifted, turning his body toward her so their legs met. He took her hands. "No. That's…"

For the first time in a long time, he saw a future he could be a part of. One he wanted very badly.

He raised his head and met her eyes. "Our family. It's a good thing to fight for."

She smiled. It was a shaky smile, but she was there with him. She tilted her head up and kissed the corner of his mouth. "I love you."

He closed his eyes and let the words wash over him, ache and all. "I love you, too, Bella. You have no idea how much."

* * *

 **A/N: Phew. Everyone still breathing?**


	21. Chapter 21

**A/N: A merry Monday to you, everyone!**

* * *

"You don't have to go with me. I know it's going to be stressful."

"Bella." Edward tilted his head up, his tone exasperated, and Bella swallowed hard.

"I...okay." Bella took a deep breath, trying to organize her thoughts.

Of course the night before had been a harsh blow. She'd meant every word she said. She understood that Edward was sick. The timing couldn't be worse, but that wasn't his fault. She wouldn't abandon him to this fight alone.

It was the parameters of his illness she couldn't wrap her head around. Her own disease had been crippling and dehumanizing, yet even at her worst, curled up on the floor in exhausted agony, the instinct to survive kept whispering. Breathe. Just breathe. Breathe until she could get up and fight again.

People did insane things in the name of survival. Became cannibals. Chopped off their own hand. How strong did Edward's demons have to be that they could not only shout over the survival instinct, but drive him to snuff out his life by his own hands?

It terrified her that she didn't know how to help him fight this. Added to the situation with her daughter, Bella's nerves were ragged and raw.

Stepping forward, Bella took his hands in hers and sat next to him on the hotel bed, angled toward him. "You have limits."

His features twisted, and he started to pull away from her grasp. She held his hands tighter. "It sucks, Edward. You know I know it sucks. And I get that you don't know what they are yet, but you do. You have limits and triggers."

He narrowed his eyes. "So you get to treat me like a child incapable of dealing with anything."

"That's not what I'm trying to do. You know I want you there with me, but not at the cost of your health."

"It's not—"

She dropped his hands and cupped his face between her palms. "I know. I'm sorry. Agh. Let me try that again." She searched for the right words as she looked into his angry, tired eyes. "This all feels so volatile to me right now. McKenna could be snatched away at any moment, and the thought of losing you too...I can't..."

The anger drained from his eyes, replaced by shame as he ducked his head. "No, Edward. I'm just trying to say, everything is question marks right now, with stakes that feel way too high. I knew what to do to fight when I was sick. You and me? Neither of us know how to navigate this thing that's happening to you. So we're going to fuck up a bit. _I'm_ going to fuck up a bit and say the wrong thing, but it's because I don't want you to hurt. Not because I don't trust you or think you're weak or anything else."

Edward's lips were pressed into a thin line, his jaw working as though he were grinding his teeth. He breathed in through his nose, out again, and lifted his head to look at her. "What would be worse for me is not to be able to be there with you."

Bella wrapped her arms around his neck, relieved when he put his arms around her and pulled her close. They stayed like that a minute, both just breathing.

 _ **~0~**_

By some miracle, Liam had agreed to let his brother, Luca, take McKenna to see Bella again, provided that Luca stay and supervise. Marcus took it as a good sign. If nothing else, Liam's lawyer understood his being a complete hardass wasn't going to look good in court and neither would reports at the way he'd spoken to his ex-wife in front of their daughter.

So, while Bella was wary about having any member of Liam's family there to skew McKenna's perception of her, she would take what she could get. Of course she would. Maybe it was agony to see her daughter under these circumstances, when the girl was so confused by and frightened of her, but it was better than being kept away.

They met at McDonald's. Apparently, Luca had no qualms about feeding McKenna "that filth," as Liam had so charmingly put it. Bella's heart gave a pang at the sight of Luca. He reminded her so much of what Liam had been like when they met—kind eyes and a roguish grin. He even gave Bella a small smile as they sat down awkwardly.

Bella and Edward both tried to say hello to McKenna. She looked at them, but listlessly played with the toy from her Happy Meal. Bella swallowed down a lump in her throat, but before she could try again, Luca surprised the hell out of her by bumping McKenna's side gently. "Hey, Kenna. You had a bunch of questions about your mom yesterday, remember? Why don't you ask her about whatever you wanted to know?"

"Daddy and Grammy made mean faces though," McKenna said quietly.

Luca sighed, glancing at Bella with something that looked suspiciously liked an apology in his eyes. "Daddy and Grammy have a hard time talking about your mom."

"Is it because she's bad?"

Bella shuddered. She wanted to snap that she was sitting right there, but reminded herself that her daughter couldn't be held responsible for her rudeness. It was a valid question.

Luca sighed. "It's complicated, grown-up stuff."

McKenna worried her bottom lip, glancing up at Bella from underneath long eyelashes. She glanced at her uncle and then back down at the table. Luca caressed her hair with a gentle touch. "It's okay. You can say whatever you want."

She shook her head. "Daddy will be mad," she whispered again.

Beneath the table, Bella clenched a fist. She had to work to keep her expression neutral. When Edward put his hand around hers, she found she could breathe a little better.

Luca smiled reassuringly. "Well, your daddy isn't here right now. And you're allowed to say whatever you want to your mommy." Luca eyed Bella. "Mommy won't be mad, right?"

Bella took a deep breath. "Nope. You can say anything you need to, Mac. I won't be mad. Promise."

She eyed Bella dubiously, her lower lip trembling just a little bit. "Daddy tooked my pictures. The ones you gived me." Her brows furrowed. "They were mine, so it's not fair."

Bella breathed out in a gust, calming. She was prepared for that one. "That's okay. I have copies right here." She dug through her purse, took out the second set she'd had printed, and placed the stack on the table in front of McKenna. The little girl's eyes lit up, and a sense of gratification washed over Bella as she watched her daughter snatch up the photos eagerly.

Edward ran his hand up and down Bella's back soothingly as they all watched McKenna set the photos side by side with unsteady, child's hands. She pointed at the one of Bella holding her just after her birth and looked up with wide eyes. "That's me?"

Bella laughed, the sound shaky. "Yeah. That's you and me." She had to clench her fists again to keep from reaching out and touching the girl in some way—a simple touch of her hand. She ached to take her baby into her arms, cradle her close just like in the photo. "That was probably my favorite day in the whole world."

"Your very favorite?" McKenna's eyes were bright with curiosity.

"Yes." She patted her stomach. "You grew right here, in my belly. Did you know that? That you lived right here with me for a while?"

McKenna blinked, looking a little confused, and Bella hurried on, hoping that wouldn't cause an issue somehow. "It takes babies almost one whole year to grow, and I couldn't wait to meet you." She reached forward carefully, tapping the photo. "That was the day we met. When I could finally see you and hold you."

"I don't remember." McKenna touched some of the other photos.

"You were brand new."

McKenna pointed at Bella's image. "You have long hair."

"Yeah. I did." Bella relaxed infinitesimally. She let herself drink her daughter in. She was so big. Her eyes so bright. "I was sick. Really sick. The medicine I had to take made me lose all my hair. But it's growing back now, see?" She turned her head to the side, stroking a hand through her still-short hair.

McKenna nodded but tilted her head back down to stare at the photos with a furrowed brow. "I lived with you?" she asked in a tiny voice.

"You, me, and your daddy lived together."

"But what about Grammy and Grampy?" She reached to the side to pat Luca. "And Uncle Luca? Were you there too?"

"No. I was here. So were Grammy and Grampy," Luca said. "But one time, you and Daddy and your Mommy were a family like we're a family now. Families change sometimes."

McKenna looked so confused. Bella didn't know how many ways her heart could break in the space of a few days. She watched her daughter look at Edward curiously. "Were you there?"

Bella heard Edward's intake of breath, as though he were as shocked as she was that McKenna was talking to him. "No. Not when you were a baby. But I live with your mommy now."

"Like family?"

Edward nodded. "Your mommy is my wife. We're married."

"Like Grammy and Grampy. Because you're in love."

"Yes." Edward looked to Bella, catching her eyes. "I love your mother very much."

McKenna tilted her head, looking between Edward and Bella. "Are you going to take me away to live with your family?" she asked, voice trembling and lower lip wobbling.

Her words and her fear were a punch to Bella's gut, and one she didn't have an answer for. Yes. Yes, it was what she desperately wanted. Even though she knew it was going to hurt her baby, she wanted it.

"Oh, Kenna. We don't have to talk about that right now," Luca said, stroking the girl's hair soothingly.

Bella took a deep breath. "That's not fair to her," she said gently. "We should…"

She didn't know. She didn't know what she should do. Tell the truth, sure, but the truth was complicated.

"You know what I think?" Edward said, leaning, in a little across the table. "Sometimes, life is really hard. Sometimes, life changes, and you can't help it. It's a scary thing knowing that life can change, but you know what?"

McKenna stared at him with wide, tear-filled eyes, her attention rapt.

"When your life changes, there can be really good things too. Awesome things happen when your life changes, and you know what else? Right now, nothing is changing. Right this minute, you're just getting to know your mommy a little better, because she hasn't been able to see you for so, so long. And no matter what happens in your life, you have a lot of people who love you, McKenna. A whole lot. We're all going to make sure you'll be okay no matter what."

"We got your back, kiddo," Luca affirmed. "All of us."

"But…" She looked to her uncle, her expression turned into classic mad-kid face. "Mommys are supposed to be good. Daddy said Mommy is so bad, not even Jesus can forgive her."

The little girl may as well have punched Bella in the gut for all she could breathe. Tears sprang to her eyes, and she clenched her jaw as anger came on the heels of devastation. Edward shifted, putting his arm around her and squeezing her tightly against him.

"Whoa, Kenna. That was harsh," Luca said with a sigh.

"Mac…" Bella tried, swallowing several times to get the lump out of her throat.

Luca glanced at her with a surprisingly gentle smile. "Let me try this one." He turned in his seat and put his hands on McKenna's shoulders, giving her a small shake to get her to look up at him. She'd crossed her arms over her chest and was glaring at the table. "Listen to me, kiddo. You listen in church, right? You know humans can be wrong, and God can't.

"Your daddy is a very smart man, and a good man, but he's still just a man. Sometimes, we get so angry, we say things we don't mean. Daddy knows no one is so wicked that Jesus can't forgive them. What Daddy means is that he's the one who can't forgive mommy. He's just a human. That's sad, but it happens sometimes."

Bella stared at the young man, incredulous. Did she really have an ally here with Liam's family?

"You don't have to be mad at your mommy," Luca said. "Even if Daddy and Grammy and Gramps are. You don't have to be. Okay? She's your mommy. She's the only mommy you're ever going to have. It's okay to talk. Your daddy isn't going to be mad at you. Okay?"

McKenna seemed uncertain, but after an age, she gave a small nod.

"Thank you," Bella mouthed when Luca met her eyes over McKenna's head. She couldn't quite breathe yet—still too shocked and wounded and furious all at once. She leaned into Edward, glad he was there beside her.

 _ **~0~**_

Bella's head pounded, conflicting emotions assailing her from all sides as she stood in the shower back in their hotel room. She tried to grapple with her grief and frustration.

Lunch had been so bittersweet. McKenna was definitely calmer without her father around, but prone to fits of fear and anger. And Bella couldn't say she didn't resent what was happening here. That she had to justify herself, her choices and her very life, to a child. That she would likely have to justify herself to the judge in another two days. She resented that she'd had to pretend she didn't hate Liam for doing this to them, but she was also determined to be everything Liam wasn't. Her daughter was never going to hear a bad word about her father leave her mouth.

That last one was especially hard. Liam wasn't the only one who was too angry to ever forgive.

When she'd let the hot water soothe her aching muscles and the cool water douse the flush from her face, she got out of the shower. Wrapping herself in a robe, she returned to the room to find Edward curled on the bed, his back to her.

For a moment, she studied him—the shape of him, the rise and fall of his shoulders as he breathed. She wondered what was going on in his head, what he was feeling. If he was thinking even now about death.

She shuddered, imagining how bleak her world would be without him.

Before panic could seize her, Bella moved. She climbed into bed and pressed her chest to his back. She let her hands roam and kissed his shoulder as he came awake again.

They didn't speak. Edward's touch was tentative at first, his fingers skimming along hers as she explored him. She was gentle too, not knowing how he felt about being touched after everything that had happened last night. But his body relaxed, and she cupped him where he was hot.

He rolled, tumbling them so he was on top of her. They kissed, their hands clasped above her head. He parted her robe, and she tugged at his jeans and they made slow, easy love.

They were still quiet long afterward, wrapped up in each other's embrace. She traced the thin lines on the underside of his arm—the healed wounds where he'd cut himself—and kissed each one, wishing the world made sense. Edward had shuddered when she first touched him there, and she'd felt his heartbeat quicken. But he sighed when she kissed him, shaking but not pulling away. Bella remembered the way he'd kissed her scars—how his touch had chased away the ugliness she'd never been able to shake—and hoped she could do the same for him.

"Edward?" she asked after a long time.

"Hmm?"

"Tomorrow everyone will be here." They were all coming—his siblings, his parents, her mother. "I was thinking it's like having a little army with me."

"They all love you, Bella," he murmured, kissing her temple.

"They love you too."

He was quiet, and she wondered if it was the right thing to press him. She nuzzled his neck. "I think…" She swallowed and tried again. "I hope you'll tell them. About you. When we get home."

His body went rigid, but he didn't pull away.

"I'm just saying. It's easier to fight when you have an army."

Silence came over them again, lingering. It wasn't an uncomfortable silence. Edward stroked a hand up and down her back, and when she dared to look at him, she saw his eyes had a pained and far away look.

"Okay," he whispered some time later. He gulped, cleared his throat, and spoke clearly. "Okay. I will. I promise."

* * *

 **A/N: They're coming along, I think.**

 **How is everyone doing out there in fanfic land?**


	22. Chapter 22

**A/N: Sorry about the delay, folks. My Bad Timing Edward and Bella hit a rough patch. I couldn't risk leaving the folks reading that fic with such a long lull, as I expect will probably happen once this Alien Unit I'm gestating breaks free!**

 **It's highly likely this is going to be the last chapter for a while. But then again, this is the last meaty chapter of this story, methinks. We'll see how you feel about it.**

* * *

Edward flexed his fists, his jaw taut. The injustice of the world was too close today. Why days like today had to exist was beyond him.

He pressed his fingertips into his temples, massaging roughly. His head was loud. He was so angry today had to happen. What about love could get so twisted that a husband could ever do something like this to his wife? Put her through this? After everything they'd doubtless been through together.

Then again, he didn't understand how Liam had made the choice in the first place—to so readily sacrifice his wife. His partner. It was a tragedy to lose a wanted pregnancy for any reason, but one they could have weathered together. She would live, and they would have time. Other children.

"Fuck," he muttered under his breath. His present helplessness mingled with his memories. He remembered staring at his wife—Charlotte—screaming at her in his head. _Let me save you. Let me save us._

Never out loud. She'd made her choice. She chose to leave him. He'd stewed in his own rage and helplessness for so long. Too long. The injustice of it. He'd loved her. He'd loved the life they wanted to build together.

Why hadn't that been enough?

Why hadn't Bella—her life, and her desire to keep living it—been enough for her husband? Why hadn't their family been enough for him?

"My family," Edward said. He braced himself against the counter, breathing in through his nose and out again. Liam had done what he'd done, and Bella was his wife now. His to care for. His to plan a future with. And he would love his stepdaughter as part of that future no matter what happened today.

He was the one who had started them down this path, brought this day to fruition. He wasn't as helpless as he felt. True, there was nothing he could do to ensure the judge would rule in their favor. He couldn't prevent Bella from hearing the doubtlessly vile things her ex-husband had to say. But he'd given her this chance. He'd given her the best lawyer she could have and a support system.

"My family," he repeated, closing his eyes. He hated when his head got so muddled. He hated the confusion. He was angry at Charlotte.

Not Charlotte. Charlotte wasn't his wife. Bella was his wife. She was letting him help her. It was Liam he was angry with now. His wife needed him, and he needed to have a clear head. He'd been in here alone too long. Bella was going to start worrying he was…

Well. That he was doing what he wanted to be doing.

He needed a clear head.

Bella was going to come in here any second.

He gritted his teeth and dug his thumbnail into the flesh of his palm. Hard. Harder.

He gasped out a breath and turned the water on. Cold. He splashed water on his face.

And he could breathe.

He raised his head and stared at himself in the mirror. "You're sick," he muttered, remembering Bella's words. Sick. Like cancer in his head. Not like Charlotte. Deeper. A cancer on his soul.

Was there chemotherapy for that kind of thing?

He laughed wryly at himself and reached for a small towel. Drying his face, he took one more steadying breath and went to assure his wife he was fine.

One look, and he realized what an asshole he'd been. As though Bella was thinking of him today.

She was sitting on the edge of the bed, a lost and tortured expression on her face. There was a towel in her hands, and she was twisting, twisting, twisting it between her fingers.

He was supposed to be taking care of her today.

Edward crossed the room, but Bella didn't turn to him. She didn't acknowledge his presence at all until he'd knelt in front of her. He took her hands, loosening the towel, and kissed her knuckles. Her jaw was taut, her eyes brimming with barely contained emotion. She met his eyes slowly.

"Whatever happens today, you're never going to lose her again," he said softly. "We'll bring her to us as often as we can. It's never going to be like before."

Her breath stuttered, and twin tears spilled over. She looked like she didn't quite believe it. He rubbed her knuckles. "You're never going to be without her this long again, okay?"

Shuddering, she bent to rest her head on his. For a few minutes, they stayed like that, just breathing. When her breaths grew even, he stood, pulling her to him, and wrapped her tightly in his arms. "We're going to be okay. All three of us."

 _ **~0~**_

Edward watched, finding some peace in the sight in front of him. Bella, looking just a little bit shy as his mother, sister, and her own mother clucked over her. They were deciding makeup, hair, and dress for the occasion. Modest, Marcus had advised. She had to look like a mother.

Whatever the hell that meant.

"Here, Edward. Let me do that."

Edward blinked, surprised as his father came to sit beside him. He realized he'd been kind of pawing at his tie, not really getting anything done. His cheek twitched as his father twisted the tie expertly, and he didn't have to look to know the knot was perfect. "Thanks."

"Mmhmm." Carlisle gave him a once over and squeezed his shoulder. "Why don't we take a walk? Get some coffee for everyone? There's a coffee shop next door to the hotel."

Warning bells went off in Edward's head. His father wanted to speak with him. Though he knew his healing wound was well covered, he glanced at his shoulder anyway.

Then, he got a handle on himself. There was no way his father knew about the cuts; Bella wouldn't have told him. When had he started running away from his family's concern for him?

He stood and followed his father out into the hallway, flashing Bella a reassuring smile before he went. Sure enough, they hadn't gotten far before Carlisle spoke. "How are you doing with all this, Edward?"

There was a question without an easy answer. "What do you mean?"

"This is a lot."

"This is Bella's fight."

"We're all here for Bella. But that doesn't mean you're not struggling." His father glanced at him. "This is so much to go through in a small amount of time. You lost your wife and child. You met this woman, who is still in recovery from a life-threatening illness, married her, and now you're dealing with a nasty custody battle. All in less than four years. You're not even thirty years old, son. It has to be confusing at least."

"Confusing." Edward hesitated a beat, and then exhaled in a gust. He'd almost forgotten this feeling—what it was like to need his father. "That's a good word for it."

He flexed his fists at his sides, trying to decide where to start. Maybe somewhere it wasn't easy to talk about with Bella. "I loved Charlotte. That whole commitment—the rest of my life—I took that seriously. I wanted that. I loved her," he repeated.

"Does it feel like betrayal that you love Bella too?" Carlisle prompted gently. "It isn't, you know."

"I know. It's not that." They walked out of the hotel, and Edward lifted his face to the sunshine, letting the warmth hit him as he sighed. "It's that it's different with Bella. I don't know if I want to say deeper, but I don't know what else to say." He felt her in the marrow of his bones—a love that shook him.

It had taken something incredible to reach him where he'd been—his emotions wrapped up tightly and locked away as they had been.

"I think that would be normal even if you hadn't gone through such traumas in your life," Carlisle said. When Edward glanced at him, he offered a small smile. "You were young when you met Charlotte, and you hadn't had a hard life to that point. Which is, of course, not a criticism. It is what it is, and Charlotte was a good match for you at that point in your life.

"If things had been different, with luck and a lot of work, the two of you would have grown together. That's what marriage is at its best. You live and grow together. You fall in love with the person your partner becomes—all their incarnations. If you're very lucky, that's how it goes. Though I don't think it's a guarantee. That a marriage, any marriage will work. I think you don't always end up on the same page." He chuckled and put a hand to Edward's back briefly. "But that's a tangent."

"The point is, Bella's on the same page as grown-up me." Edward brushed his sore arm absently. "Traumatized me."

"Same page. Same book." Carlisle stopped before going into the coffee shop. "I was worried, your mother was worried, when you told us you were getting married out of nowhere. But you're good for each other. Right. Just don't forget you have the rest of us too."

Edward breathed in through his nose deeply and out again.

Funny. It felt like the first deep breath he'd taken in a long, long time.

 _ **~0~**_

Edward was in awe of his wife. She was stoic throughout the whole proceeding. She answered questions calmly, and somehow, she never lost her cool.

For Edward, it was a near thing. It went against everything in him to stand passively by at the handful of outbursts Liam had. The man was angry, and despite having his mother, girlfriend, and siblings there with him—presumably, his father was watching McKenna—they just couldn't keep him calm.

They sat in that courtroom with their own separate armies. Bella backed by all his family and her mother. Each of them had been asked by Marcus to write a letter. Most vouched for Edward, of course, assuring the judge of his first marriage and his steadiness, his love for Bella and how much he'd been looking forward to being a father before his first wife died. Bella's mother had been asked to describe what it was like watching her fight her illness, speaking to how debilitated she had been, how impossible it had been for her to follow Liam when he snatched their daughter away.

Marcus had told them just this morning that he'd obtained a letter from Luca. As it turned out, Marcus had caught on to the same thing Edward and Bella had observed. Liam's little brother wasn't sold on the idea Bella was the devil incarnate. In the courtroom, he stood on Liam's side with the rest of his family, but the letter he'd written spoke of his private observations. He never had been able to reconcile what Liam had done as right. How could it be right when it had been so cruel? Liam thought his child had been murdered, but he'd left his wife in total poverty, stealing not only her daughter, but any possibility of landing on her feet. He'd written about the hoops Liam had made Bella jump through to keep up even the tiny amount of contact she had left—her phone calls with McKenna. He confirmed what Bella had long suspected—that the gifts she sent her daughter on her birthday, Christmas, and just because never made it into the little girl's hands.

Marcus had showed just how much he deserved his reputation. He'd done a thorough background check into Liam, finding inconsistencies and lies, the largest of which being that he'd been employed since shortly after their divorce. He had the means to take McKenna to see Bella any time, and his child support payments would have been much different had he reported as he was supposed to.

He was also good at subtly pushing buttons. Edward recognized that more than one of Liam's outbursts had been brought on by Marcus's careful prodding. The judge had even raised a wry eyebrow and commented, "I see what you're doing, Mr. Russo. You've made your point."

The courtroom devolved into a tense silence as the judge prepared to give her verdict. She sat quietly for a moment, either oblivious to the tension in the room or simply used to it. Her brows were furrowed. She folded her hands in front of her and leaned forward, looking at first Bella, then Liam. "Mrs. Cullen. Mr. Buckley. I want to say up front that I know you're both working from a place of love, what you think is best for your child.

"McKenna has a good thing going on here in Texas. She has a loving father. A support system. Her life here is likely the only one she remembers. From everything I've seen, McKenna is a happy child."

Beside Edward, Bella's breath stuttered. Her hand had gone clammy in his. He squeezed her, pressing his tongue to the roof of his mouth to keep himself from shouting at the judge.

The woman eyed Liam. "Taking a child away from everything she's ever known is not something I consider lightly." She took a deep breath. "I'm awarding full custody of McKenna Buckley to her mother."

Edward's heart skipped a beat. Bella made a strangled noise. "What?" Liam roared. The others in the courtroom gasped and started speaking all at once.

The judge held up a hand. "Listen to me very carefully, Mr. Buckley. No. Close your mouth, and hear what I'm saying." She glared, and Liam's mouth snapped shut. She nodded. "As I said, I know you truly believe you're acting in your daughter's best interest. I share many of your beliefs. My life is a small price to pay for my child's life.

"However, Mrs. Cullen was well within her legal rights to make the choice she did. It happens, when a person has hurt you so severely, that everything they do becomes twisted. I understand you believe your ex-wife is a threat to your daughter, but nothing you've presented to me proves that theory. In fact, it's a compelling argument in favor of the choice she made. To potentially sacrifice her life to bring a baby to term would be to ensure with high probability both McKenna and the baby were left motherless. That's not a choice any mother wants to make.

"Rather than protect your daughter, as was your intention, you've done her a great disservice. You've deprived her of a loving mother and injured that most precious of relationships. That kind of damage takes time to repair, and it's one of the reasons I think McKenna is better served being with her mother full time for the time being."

"Your honor—"

"I'm not quite done, Mr. Buckley." The judge steepled her fingers. "Just like you, Mrs. Cullen could hold on to her anger. It wasn't her but you who broke your sacred marriage vows."

Edward's eyebrows shot up. For a sanctimonious prick as Liam was, that one had to have hit him in the gut.

"In sickness and in health. You left your wife to battle illness alone. Not only that, but you did your best to kick her while she was down. Yet she's promised your daughter will never hear her speak ill of you. The recordings I was provided prove that you don't allow Mrs. Cullen the same courtesy. A child's perception of their parent shouldn't be skewed by their other parent's anger. I have some hope that McKenna will be able to find a healthy outlook toward both her parents with Mr. and Mrs. Cullen.

"But I'm aware this transition won't be easy on any of you. Mrs. Cullen."

Bella jumped a little when the judge said her name. "Yes?"

"I'm putting in a requirement that you seek counseling for McKenna as soon as possible. Mr. Buckley, I can't order it, but it's something I think you should look into. It's time you find closure. Mrs. Cullen will always be your daughter's mother. It's time you learn to deal with that reality for McKenna's sake. Do you understand?"

"Your honor." Liam's voice wavered. "You can't…"

But they all knew what the judge could and couldn't do. After a beat, she looked away from Liam to Bella again. "Are you seeking child support?"

"I...No." Bella sounded stunned.

The judge nodded. "You and Mr. Buckley can work together to arrange visitation. If McKenna starts preschool this year, that will need to be taken into consideration, of course. Her finding stability in a new environment will be paramount, but Mr. Buckley does have rights to visitation as frequently as is feasible given the distance. Since you're both financially stable at this point" —she gave Liam a pointed glare— "this shouldn't be an issue as it was before.

"Good luck to all of you. I hope you come to view this as a new start."

 _ **~0~**_

Hours later, they were finally alone again in their hotel room. Outside, the sun was setting, casting a low, calm light over the room.

They sat in the middle of the bed facing each other, her legs thrown over his, curved around his back. Her head was bowed, her hands on his thighs. He traced nonsensical patterns along her scalp, down her back, and just let her breathe.

Apropos of nothing, she breathed in deeply and straightened up. Even then, she didn't speak right away but drew her fingers up and down his sides. Then, she pressed a palm over his heart. He put his hand over hers, watching as she raised her eyes to meet his.

"I'm sorry. About the child support thing. I shouldn't have done that without asking you." Her words tripped over each other in a rush. A glimpse, he thought, of the chaos that must have been going through her head just then. "You shouldn't have to support us."

"You're my family." He squeezed her hand over his chest. "Let him keep his money. I have the means to support you and McKenna. It's what I want. Truly."

"I won't be a flower shop girl forever. I'll figure it out. Get back on track."

"You can do and be whatever you want, Bella. We'll both figure it out. Together. All of it."

She closed her eyes and huffed out a breath, nodding. When she opened her eyes again, she seemed calmer. "It's going to be ugly before it gets better," she whispered.

He wrapped his arms around her, cupping her ass to bring her flush against him. His head was such an odd place. Though they were facing so much—bringing home an angry, hurting little girl, dealing with Bella's furious ex, facing the prospect of telling his family about his issues and then dealing with all of it—for once, Edward wasn't overwhelmed. He was sure his damaged psyche would fail him at some point, but right that moment, he was at peace with the world.

"You know, when I look at you…" He cupped her cheek, tilting her head up to taste the sweetness of her lips. "I'm not afraid."

She smiled, her sad eyes lighting up. "You make me happy. Happier than I've ever been. Do you know how incredible that is given everything? Where we are?""

"Who we are?" he suggested lightly. He still couldn't fathom why anyone would look at him like that, knowing full well what a mess he was.

"Edward," she whispered, kissing him. "You're so beautiful. What we're going to build together? It's going to be so, so good. I believe that. I trust that." She pulled back, looking at him. "You and me. No regrets?"

"You and me." He smiled, wide and genuine.

"And our army."

He chuckled. "We got this."

* * *

 **A/N: Our tale, I believe, is told. We'll catch up with these damaged kids on the other side of the war. A couple chapters follow up.**

 **But...give me some time on that one.**

 **If you haven't already, join my Facebook group. I think we have a lot of fun in there, and they frequently help me out with little fic things. We have some great discussions too.**

 **Anyway. Much love out there. I'll see you soon. Once I figure out who I am post-baby.**


	23. Chapter 23

**A/N: I have already written about the trauma of taking a child from the only family she's ever known to integrate her into a new family. That's a book in and of itself, so we'll be skipping that drama if you please. This is Edward and Bella's story anyway. :)**

* * *

~Two Years Later~

Bella looked at the clock for the millionth time. She stood, hands on her hips as she surveyed the busy house around her. In spite of her nerves, warmth rushed through her.

Even after two years she still had trouble believing she'd fallen into this family. It was funny. She'd ended up with Liam when her subconscious tried to fill the hole her father left behind. She'd craved steadiness and quiet love.

The Cullens' love was loud. The whole family was there in her home, bustling around with excitement. They were throwing McKenna a birthday party of sorts, and so everyone was busy putting up decorations, stacking presents, cooking, or baking.

It had been Alice's idea. The day Edward and Bella brought home a scared, angry, screaming McKenna for the first time, Alice had greeted them with a birthday party. It was, she said, the birth of their new little family. McKenna had been sullen that first time, but what child couldn't be lured into at least a semi-good mood by pizza, cake, and a "real" live unicorn?

Liam had McKenna for two long months in the summer, including her actual birthday. But her party at home was about everyone—solidifying their new family in the little girl's head. It was a necessity considering every time she saw her father, McKenna came home confused and angry all over again.

The thought had no sooner crossed her mind than her phone rang. Bella's heart dropped down to her feet when she saw Liam's name on the display. She blew out a breath as she put the phone to her ear. "Liam, you're supposed to be on a plane."

"Always a pleasure to speak to you, Isabella."

Bella rolled her eyes. He knew damn well she didn't like being called Isabella. "Tell me you're on a plane right now. You know I'm always so happy to see you," she said with sugar sweetness. It was, after all, a true statement. She was always happy to see Liam because it meant her baby was coming home.

He harrumphed. "That's what I was calling to tell you. My flight was canceled."

Bella clenched her jaw. She tried to keep her temper. She really did, but she couldn't help but slam her fist down on the tabletop. "Bullshit. That's bullshit, and you know it."

Edward appeared at her side as if by magic. He put an arm around her, his expression pinched with concern as he pulled her against him.

"What do you think?" Liam said with a scoff. "I can't control the airlines."

"Then when is your alternate flight?" Bella said through clenched teeth.

"What?"

"When the airline cancels a flight, they get you set up with an alternate. When is it?"

Another scoff. "I'll text you the information."

"Liam—"

"Don't throw a fit, Isabella. Rescheduling your little party isn't the end of the world."

Bella clenched her fist. "So that's what this is about. You found out about the party."

"Not everything is about you."

"Whatever. You can't keep McKenna. That's not—"

"I'll text you the information."

"Liam. Dammit." Bella tossed the phone at the couch. She pressed her fist to her forehead.

Edward's hands were gentle on her shoulders. He turned her, and she pressed her face into his chest, breathing in his scent. His fingers brushed through her hair.

Then, there were other hands. Soft hands on her back. A squeeze to her shoulder. And she could breathe. When she lifted her head, she wasn't surprised to see everyone had gathered around her. Edward squeezed her tightly.

Their army.

"Up to his bullshit again?" Alice asked, and Bella sighed.

She told them what had happened. McKenna must have guessed there would be another party to welcome her home. Edward checked and, sure enough, their original flight hadn't been canceled at all.

There was nothing much to be done. Liam had always been one to play games. He had a lot less power now that Bella had the means to fight back, but he still pushed where he could. Sure enough, a text came through before she was even done recounting the conversation. Liam's new flight gave him an extra two days with their daughter.

"This will all keep," Esme said, gesturing around them. "We'll just have to postpone the party a couple of days."

"Such a prick." Rosalie shook her head.

"But you know what that means, right?" Emmett said.

Bella raised an eyebrow, and he grinned at her. He went over to the cabinet where they hid the liquor and pulled out a bottle of Jack. "We can have an adult party."

Edward shook his head and glanced at Bella, concern still etched on his features. He rubbed a hand up and down her back. In spite of her aching heart, she had to smile. She knew that she only had to look at him a certain way and he'd send his family home, let her grieve or scream or rage with only him there to witness it.

She took his hand, pulling him toward the kitchen instead. "We'll get the Coke."

 _ **~0~**_

Later that night, Bella sat on her side of the bed, watching her husband as he moved about the room. He leaned over the dresser, writing something. A list, she knew. He loved his lists.

He set his pen down and reached for the bottle of pills. He shook one out and swallowed it dry. Then, he turned toward her.

A shiver went down her spine at the sight of him, bare chested and gorgeous as always. She stood and went to him, wrapping her arms around him and pulling him down with her into their bed.

Afterward, she rested with her head on his chest, idly tracing the thin scars on the inside of his other arm.

"What are you thinking?" he asked, his voice raspy and quiet.

"All the battles." She drew in a shaky breath, trying not to think of the hole in her heart that always felt so bleeding and raw when her baby was gone.

He hummed, turning on his side so they were nose to nose. He kissed her sweetly, nuzzling her cheek as he pulled away so slightly. "I never thought life was supposed to be easy. I wonder about that sometimes. Do other people have to fight as hard as we have?"

It hadn't been an easy road. There was nothing that could soften the fact that they were strangers to McKenna, and she blamed them for taking her away from her loving family. Children were remarkably resilient. McKenna had weathered the trauma with them and found happiness in her new life, but not without scars. She had anger problems that, to the best of Bella's knowledge, hadn't existed before. She'd been called in to McKenna's school more than once, and the tantrums at home hadn't been fun.

And Edward's battles with his mental health.

He'd never come close to actually attempting suicide. The thought of it plagued him, and he'd had a small handful of relapses in his battle against self-harm.

Telling his family had been the right move, though not without its own complication. They were steadfast in their support, but mental health was difficult to understand.

At first, Edward's parents called incessantly, only adding guilt to Edward's laundry list of poisonous emotions. Eventually, they learned to trust that he would still be there, still be whole, even if they weren't checking in on him so often. They learned that what was more important was their patience. They didn't need to understand some of the things Edward did to cope, or that sometimes, it was actually more mentally healthy for him to sit alone in a dark room until he could cope with company again.

Then the long, hard road to recovery. Therapy was on the agenda for all of them, and Edward agreed meds could help stabilize his moods, mitigate the depth of the darkness that could overtake him. But mental health was tricky when it came to meds. Finding the correct meds at the correct dose was often a matter of trial and error—a real bitch when the wrong meds could actually make him more suicidal. The same went for his therapist. Not every therapist was a good match for every person. Edward went through three before he found a woman who suited him well.

They were all doing so much better two years down the line, but Edward was right. There were a lot of battles. Bella knew there was every likelihood she would be fighting her ex-husband for the next twelve years, and Edward's mental health was permanently altered. She trusted he would remain well enough not to self-harm, but that didn't mean there wouldn't be low days. He'd learned to articulate what he needed, to lean on her and his family.

Together, they'd learned to cope.

Together, they'd begun to thrive.

She traced his features. "It's a good trade-off," she said. "Fighting these battles? I have you and my baby." She grimaced. "Most of the time anyway. And I have your family. I've finally got one foot in the door at a job I think I'll love."

He smiled back and kissed her, slow and soft. "You're right. You gave me a family."

"Little and broken, but still good."

He smirked, recognizing the quote. "So good." He rolled, straddling her and slotting his body against hers. "You and McKenna are everything worth fighting for. I have everything I need."

 _ **~Edward~**_

"It's hot," McKenna declared.

Edward glanced down at his stepdaughter with a bemused smile. Hot was an understatement. It was a sweltering day. The hottest of the year. Which, given that it was the end of September, was annoying. Even more annoying was the fact that it just had to be this particular weekend that it was so damn hot. Most weekends there was plenty to do indoors. Not here.

McKenna, as could be expected after a visit with her father, had come home extra angry and had ended the first day of school in a fight. They'd had a long talk—lots of screaming on McKenna's side—with a lot of tears. Together with her therapist, they'd worked hard on her behavior, and when parent-teacher conference time came around, the teacher had gushed about her total turnaround in her attitude.

They had often told her people who worked hard got to play hard. Hence, they'd packed her up early that morning and arrived at Disneyland right as the gates open.

Edward squatted to her level. "I know it's hot, but are you still having fun?"

" _I'm_ not hot." She propped one hand on her hip, giving him a look. "Mommy's hot. Look."

Edward looked and was surprised to see his wife looked like she was on the verge of collapse. "Bella." He put an arm around her and touched a hand to her cheek. "Are you okay?" Her face actually looked pale, as though she were cold instead of flushed with heat. But in sharp contrast, her hair, long and pretty now, was matted along her hairline with sweat.

She took a shaky breath and put on a smile. "I'm fine. Come on. The line for the ferris wheel is reasonable right now."

"Uh. No." He reached down with his free hand to take McKenna's. He led them to an open bench under a covered awning. "I think you need to sit down."

"I'm okay," she said, stubborn as always.

"Heat exhaustion is a thing, love." He cupped her cheek gently. Maybe strangely, her skin was cool to the touch. Clammy, but cool. "Why don't I get you ladies some lemonade?"

McKenna hopped on the bench beside her mother, her eyes brightening. "They have lemonade ice cream pops."

"That sounds perfect."

It took him a minute to locate the correct cart and another ten minutes in line— it was obnoxiously long due to the heat. Finally, though, Edward got back to his precious girls.

"Mommy isn't feeling well," McKenna reported.

"I'm okay, Mac." She looked, if anything, even more sallow. "The line is going to get too long. We should get going."

"Ice cream first," Edward said, putting the frozen lemonade pop in her hand before he gave one to McKenna.

Bella took a small bite of her pop, and her lips turned down. She handed it back to him. "I can't. I'm just going to throw it up."

Edward frowned, worried now. "I think you need to take a break somewhere air conditioned." He handed her the ice cold bottle of water he'd also purchased.

"Most of the rides are air conditioned."

"The ferris wheel isn't." He rubbed her shoulders. "McKenna and I can brave this one alone. What do you think, Mac?"

"Yeah, Mommy if you don't feel good, you'll throw up all over everyone."

Bella chuckled weakly. "That's disgusting." She sighed. "Fine."

Some minutes later, Edward and McKenna had been loaded into one of the sliding gondolas on Mickey's Ferris Wheel. They were simply seated in a cage, no seatbelts, that slid back and forth along a track as the ferris wheel went around, creating a wild swinging motion.

McKenna squealed with delight and ended up clambering onto Edward's lap, clinging to his neck. The two women with a little boy seated across from them smiled.

"Your daughter is so cute," one of them said.

He let a beat go by. McKenna often argued when anyone referred to her as his daughter. Today, she just grinned and clung tighter to him.

Edward smiled and kissed the side of her hair. She was his daughter. He'd told her often enough, she and her mother were it for him. His family. And he loved them both as fiercely as he knew how.

 **~0~**

"Seriously, Bella. Are you okay?" he asked for the millionth time as they drove home late that evening. The car was unnaturally quiet—McKenna passed out in her carseat and Bella sitting, head bowed against the window. She'd had to rest most of the day, too overheated and nauseated to walk for long, stand in line, or eat much.

She gave him the evil eye but sighed. "The heat took a lot out of me." She touched her temple. "I have the most god awful headache."

A chill went down Edward's spine, and a knife twisted in his gut.

I have the most god awful headache.

The exact words Charlotte had spoken five days in a row before he put his foot down and told her to make an appointment.

The beginning of the end.

He rolled his shoulders, shoving away the trepidation roiling through him. It was a common enough phrase. And as Bella had said, they'd been in the heat all day. Many of the rides had broken down, unable to withstand the temperature.

Bella was fine.

"You didn't eat much today. I'm sure that doesn't help," he said, keeping his voice even.

"Yeah." She rubbed her temple. "I'll be fine. Just… how about we stick to air conditioned activities for awhile?"

"Sold."

When they pulled up in front of their little house, Bella went to get McKenna from the backseat.

"Why don't you let me get her?" Edward said.

"I'm fine." Bella gathered her sleeping daughter to her. "You deal with the metric ton of merch we picked up." She flashed him a grin. "You need to learn how to say no, mister."

"Pffft." He went to the trunk to start gathering McKenna's impressive assortment of new gear.

Just as he got in the house, he heard an odd thud. Then, a sound that made his blood turn to ice in his veins.

"Mommy? Mommy?" McKenna sounded frantic. "Daddy! Help!"

Edward darted up the stairs, barely processing that McKenna had called him Daddy for the first time. He found his wife and daughter in Mckenna's room. The sight of them made him cry out in horror.

McKenna was kneeling at her mother's side, face twisted and tears streaming down her cheeks. Bella was crumpled on the floor, unconscious, a thin stream of blood sliding from one nostril.

 _Not her._ Edward fell to his knees, calling Bella's name. _Not. Her._

* * *

 **A/N: Yes, I'm making the next chapter a priority. :** )


	24. Chapter 24

**A/N: See! That wasn't too bad a wait, right?**

* * *

"You're overreacting."

Bella rubbed at her temples, her eyes barely open in the harsh light of the medical bay. Her nerves were frayed. She hated hospitals and the ER most of all. Christ, her head hurt so much. And she was nauseated. And dizzy.

She just didn't feel well.

Beside her, Edward sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Bella… Just…"

She swallowed hard, ignoring the way her heart pounded and her gut twisted with nerves. "Charlotte had a brain tumor. I didn't. It can't be the same thing."

Her words came out harsher than she meant them to. It wasn't fair of her to bark at him, especially about this subject. But she was scared too. While it was true it was highly unlikely she had the same brain tumor that had killed Charlotte, she knew damn well cancer of almost any type could manifest itself in a variety of ways. Just because this wasn't how it had happened the first time didn't mean it wasn't a relapse. Cancer often spread.

But regardless, Edward had a right to be scared too. She knew what it must have done to him, to see her passed out with a nosebleed. He'd told her a little of what he'd been through with Charlotte. Especially as the tumor grew, pressing into her brain, nosebleeds and fainting spells were the least of the horrible things he'd seen. It was impossible not to think of what he stood to lose—his wife, of course, and the little girl Bella knew he loved fiercely.

She shuddered at the thought of McKenna belonging only to Liam.

"I'm sorry," she said, her voice rough. She searched for his hand and threaded their fingers together. "I didn't mean to snap at you. We're both overreacting. It's heat exhaustion. That's all. I overdid it, and we were out all day today. Do you know how many miles you walk when you go to both parks on the same day? I looked at my tracker. I was sitting half the time, and I was still up to fifteen miles. That's crazy."

He blew out a slow breath and sat forward in his chair, grasping her hand in both of his. "You're right." He attempted a smile. "Just the heat."

"One twenty. And humid. Half the rides were broken," Bella muttered more to herself than him.

"Back," the nurse said, reappearing. "Let's get you hooked up."

The doctor who'd already seen Bella had diagnosed dehydration easily enough based on her symptoms. "Pretty common diagnosis today, especially for anyone who's been out in the heat."

Bella grimaced, turning her head away as the needle came out. She tried not to think of when her life had been an endless stream of hospital visits and oh so many needles.

"The doctor will be back soon. In the meantime, this should help you feel better."

They were left alone again.

"Alice said she managed to get Mac asleep," Edward said quietly, looking at his phone.

"She was exhausted." Bella yawned. "That makes three of us, I guess."

"I'm not tired."

"Yeah, you are." Bella played with his fingers with her free hand. "It's going to be okay."

"I should be telling you that."

"You did the whole way here."

"Yeah." Edward ran a shaking hand through her hair. "Just the heat, right?"

"Yeah." She paused. "It wouldn't be so dramatic. Relapsing, I mean. I'd go in for my annual check up, and it'd be in the test results. That's all."

Time passed too slowly. Finally, though, the doctor reappeared. "A little saline goes a long way." She smiled at Bella. "You're looking better. Got some color back in your cheeks." She sat down in her stool. "Well, we do have some answers for you right off. The nausea is easy to explain for sure. We ran a pregnancy test, and it came back positive."

Bella's breath cut off in a wheeze. She and Edward stared dumbly. "Can you… What?" Bella asked.

"You're pregnant, kids."

More staring. Edward swallowed audibly. "And what else?"

The doctor cocked her head. "And… you definitely shouldn't be wandering around in the sun. And you need to keep hydrated for sure."

"But the cancer?" Edward bit the words out, his voice sounding raw. "The nose bleed?"

"We've run the appropriate tests to make sure. It'll be a few days before we get those results. But the pregnancy can explain that too. The soft tissue is sensitive. It's a lesser known symptom, but it does happen." She wagged a finger at Bella. "Probably from being out in the sweltering heat from morning to night." She looked at both of them. "Like I said, we'll have to wait for the tests to come back, but I think we have your answer right here."

 _ **~0~**_

Since Alice had managed to get McKenna to sleep, Edward and Bella went straight home. Bella sat on the edge of their bed, running a hand over her face. She was caught in a surreal space, one foot in some of her worst memories and the other looking ahead to new possibilities. New fears.

Edward was quiet but steady. He folded her in his arms. She sat in their bed, her legs pulled up to her chest, and he wrapped himself around her. Together, they breathed.

Despite her best efforts, hope grew in her, tiny as the new life that had sparked into existence under her nose.

 _ **~0~**_

It wasn't that Bella hadn't been aware there was a possibility she was still fertile. She had vague memories of the conversation she'd had with the doctor. She'd been in a state of shock. First the diagnosis. Then the devastating choice and her husband's cold fury. Then the prospect of facing an abortion alone. She'd had no room left in her head or her heart to consider future children.

The younger a cancer patient was, the more likely she would still be fertile after treatment. Bella hadn't thought much about it. After her treatments, her cycle had never regulated. She could go months between periods. It was no real loss. After Liam, Bella couldn't imagine having another child someone could just rip away.

With Edward the conversation simply hadn't come up. They had other things to think about. Edward was working hard to get better and Bella was starting a new career. She supposed she'd taken her infertility for granted.

"One step at a time," Edward said. They were both still numb. There were too many unanswered questions, and they'd both been here before.

Their first answer came relatively quickly.

"All clear," Bella said, closing her eyes and melting into Edward's embrace, her phone slipping from her hand.

She was still cancer free.

"Then we can face anything," Edward said against her ear. "You and me together. We have whatever comes our way."

 _ **~0~**_

Nine weeks. Already two months gone.

"There's every likelihood the baby is fine. Normal," the doctor said during their first OB appointment. "It's true that a woman has all the eggs she'll ever have at the beginning of her life, and theoretically, those eggs did go through chemotherapy with you. However, only one or two eggs mature each month. Studies don't show much of an increase in birth defects after chemotherapy. The studies aren't definitive, but there isn't a significant reason to worry.

"However, due to your history, as a precaution, I would recommend genetic testing. There are two types. The blood test and the amniocentesis."

 _ **~Edward~**_

"Mommy, are you sick, _again_ _?_ "

Any other time, Edward might have been amused. McKenna's voice sounded exasperated, but there was worry etched on her small face. He didn't find her worry funny at all. Seeing her mother collapse had shaken them both to the core. Now, everytime Bella looked pale, McKenna started to fret.

The problem was, it had been a month since Disneyland. At this point, Bella was in a state of perpetual queasiness. She was worn and gaunt, her skin a sickly color that set Edward's teeth on edge. His brain wouldn't let him stop connecting one sick, pregnant wife with the other. And no matter what the doctor said, the part of him waiting for disaster couldn't wrap its head around the idea the baby could possibly be okay. The body of a cancer patient was permanently altered. Could it really still build something as complex as a human being?

Sitting across from McKenna, her head in her hands, Bella stared at her daughter for several quiet seconds. Then, a strange look came over her face, and for the first time in all those weeks, she smiled. She sat up straight and opened her arms to her daughter. "Come here."

McKenna abandoned her dinner and hurried to climb into Bella's lap. "Do you remember when I told you before you were born you lived inside me? Right here?" Bella put a hand to her belly. When McKenna nodded, she continued. "There's a new baby living there right now. And sometimes, that gives me a stomachache. That's all."

Some hours later, when McKenna was occupied, playing her video game, Bella put her arm around Edward and rested her head on his shoulder. "I'm sorry for making a unilateral decision. We were scaring her." She paused a beat, then craned her head to look up at him. "I think we're scaring ourselves, and we've put off talking about it for way too long."

A painful lump rose to Edward's throat. He had a fear of this conversation he knew damn well wasn't rational.

Bella raised her head, eyes full of trepidation. "I know we never talked about it. I know it's the wrong time. But is this a horrible thing?"

He exhaled in a gust. "No. I…" He shook his head. "You were enough. You and McKenna." He stroked his fingers through her hair. "It feels like too much already. To ask for this, for everything to be okay, seems like too much. There's this sense of foreboding I can't seem to shake. I don't think about...the baby." Even the words were hard to say. "I think about you."

She studied him a long moment. "I get that." She lay her head on his shoulder again. "I keep thinking. The only pregnancy I planned was the one I had to terminate." She shuddered. "I keep thinking...what if. What if there's something wrong, really wrong? What if I have to choose again? It's hard to think about anything over that."

He knew all those stories as well. Babies born only to suffer for hours or days. Fetuses that died in utero, becoming a danger to the mother. There were so many possibilities.

Bella gripped his hand. "But that's stupid, isn't it? When I was fighting cancer, I had a seventy percent chance of survival. That's thirty percent chance of the worst possibility. Whether or not we got McKenna back was down to a stranger's whim, and we still had so much hope. Now, it's not even a five percent chance that something is wrong. Why are we living under a cloud, Edward?"

He laughed, completely without humor. "Because I'm good at it?"

She laughed, hers more genuine, and she raised her head to kiss the tip of his nose. She looked him in the eyes. "Do you want this with me?"

It had been so, so long since he thought about something as mundane and incredible as having a baby. He'd had only a couple of weeks to consider what that meant before the pregnancy was the thing killing his wife. He opened his mouth to lie—he knew he shouldn't stress out a pregnant woman—but, looking at her, remembered what he'd promised years ago. Talk. Be honest. "I don't know how to want it."

She stroked his cheek with the back of her hand. "Then how about we give ourselves a break? We don't have to be excited about the pregnancy." She swallowed hard. "I think… I think maybe we'll both believe it's okay when he or she is born and we can see for ourselves that everything is okay. So, we're going to take care of ourselves; be healthy. And we're going to let McKenna be excited, and our family be excited for us."

His lip twitched. "Will you be promise to be patient with me? If I want to wrap you in bubble wrap?"

"Only if you don't actually wrap me in bubble wrap."

His smile was genuine this time. He kissed her. "You have a deal."

 _ **~Some Months Later~**_

Edward tapped his foot, restless. He watched the huge, blue board, his eyes on the flights coming in from DFW. Ever the pain in the ass, Liam had been vague about when their flight was arriving. Edward wouldn't care normally, but it meant he was away from his wife. She'd been through hell the day before, and he hated being this far away from her.

But, he'd take it. McKenna had adamantly refused to get on the plane to see her father until he promised she could come back early to be there when her little brother was born. Liam had been horrible about it, of course, but had ultimately given in to McKenna's desires with the stipulation that he would still get his visit. He and his now-wife Maggie were going to spend the next two weeks in California, and McKenna would stay with them.

"I wouldn't be surprised if you ignored McKenna outright," Liam had told Bella. Apparently, his theory that she hated her children had evolved somewhat over the years to the idea she could only hate his children.

Edward scanned the people coming down the escalator until finally McKenna appeared, holding on to Maggie's hand. Her eyes went wide and bright when she saw Edward, and she bounced in place until they got near the bottom of the escalator. Then, she darted.

"Daddy, Daddy, Daddy. Is Mommy and baby brother okay? We have to go see them right now. I'm already late." Her words crashed into each other as he reached down to scoop her up into a hug.

"Daddy?" Liam said, his lips curling around the word.

Edward met his eyes, and god help him, he couldn't stop the smirk that pulled at his lips. "I'll drop her off at your hotel tomorrow as discussed," he said. Then, he turned away, carrying McKenna out of there before Liam could start his shit.

 _ **~0~**_

Later that night, the hospital room was quiet. Edward rested in the little alcove designated for partners. Bella was asleep in her hospital bed, and his son…

His son.

Thirty-six hours after his birth, the words were only beginning to sink in. It was confusing. Awful in some ways because when he held his son for the first time, how could he help but remember the tiny little being he'd held in the cupped palm of his hand? Ezra. His first son.

Jackson Perri Cullen had a much different reception.

His mother was alive. So, so alive. Flushed and crying, her eyes bright and her smile radiant as she reached out to touch the boy's cheek, as though she needed to keep contact with him even as Edward held him. It had been a difficult pregnancy, and like him, Bella's emotions had remained disconnected throughout, but the instant the doctor placed the squirming, squalling boy in her arms, he had witnessed the awesome sight of a woman falling instantly, irrevocably in love with her child.

As for Edward, he wasn't sure what he felt. His chest was warm, watching Bella clasp their son to her breast. And then later, when McKenna climbed into bed beside her mother to meet her little brother, he felt as though his heart grew again. Because he loved them, though. He didn't know what he felt for his tiny son.

Though it was, theoretically, the second night, given that Jackson was born at one in the morning, the first night had been too hectic to find peace. Now, in the semi-darkness of the hospital room, Edward stood and went to his son's side. The baby rested, swaddled tightly in his clear bassinet. Edward was startled to find his unfocused eyes were open. Slowly, he reached out and pulled the boy carefully up into his arms.

They sat together, father and son, for what might have been minutes or hours. Edward propped him up on his knees and just stared. For his part, the baby's eyelids fluttered and drooped. He fell back asleep, secure in his father's embrace.

Edward put him back to bed and returned to his alcove, too wide-awake now to even consider sleeping. In the bag Bella had packed for him, he found paper and a pen. He wrote three letters. Three promises to be there every minute of every day. To keep on fighting. To be the man they all deserved. He wrote—one to Bella. One to McKenna. One to his son.

Today was the first day of the rest of their lives.

* * *

 _ **~The End~**_

 **A/N: So many thanks to Packy, Betsy, Eleanor, MyOnlyHeroin, and Mina for all their help. '**

 **Thanks to all of you for joining me on another journey. Much love.**


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